


Lost in Translation

by Wallys_hot_mama



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura fights politics, Ballroom Dancing, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dancing and Singing, Drama & Romance, F/M, Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Foreign Language, Friendship, Gen, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sure I missed a tag somewhere, Italian Character(s), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Language Barrier, Lime, Mild Language, Musical References, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Shiro did not sign up for this, Shiro is a cultured gentleman, Shiro vs. OC, Slow Burn, plan what plan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 101
Words: 195,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallys_hot_mama/pseuds/Wallys_hot_mama
Summary: The Voltron gang pick up a stranded survivor on a hostile planet, believing her to be harmless.  But the more time they spend with her, the more they realize they may have gotten more than they bargained for.Updates once a week.





	1. "Intacto" - Passenger

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the Voltron characters (except my OC), quotes, or musical references contained herein. I did try to keep with the speech patterns of the canon characters, as well as to use language consistent with the Netflix original. All explicit language is in Italian... or Altean. ;)
> 
> The chapters are all named for different songs or other selections of music. They are all real pieces, and I hold no claim on them. As far as I am aware, I have quoted them all appropriately. This is not a musical; the dancing and singing occur separately.
> 
> I also do have some artwork posted at hotaruno.deviantart.com for this particular story. I'll post them for your viewing pleasure, and add the web address to the end of the appropriate chapters.

   Shiro spun away from Keith's right cross and tapped him on the back of the head.  "Tag," he said, rather seriously.  "Where's your head, Keith?"  
   Kieth snarled and lashed out with a kick, which Shiro ducked gracefully.  
   "You're not thinking," said his mentor.  "Don't attack me so rashly. Tag."  He jabbed two fingers into the younger man's solar plexus.  
   Keith made a strangled noise and backed away,  still doubled over.  He took a moment to recover, and then stood upright again.  "Can't I just use the Gladiator?" He asked.  
   Shiro gave him that slightly unsettling sad smile and shook his head.  "Pidge is recalibrating  it."  
   "Right."  He'd forgotten how it had shorted out and nearly killed her last time.  Keith shook his head wearily. He was still getting used to using that pronoun.  He was still getting used to a lot of things.  "Sorry,  Shiro.  A lot's happened in the last couple weeks.  I guess I'm not as focused as I'd like."  
   The black paladin nodded. "I understand. Let's take a break.  I'm sure there's better things we could be do-"  
   "Quiznak!"  He was interrupted by an angry yell in Altean.  
   "Right on cue," Keith murmured.  
   Pidge, Allura, and Coran stood on deck, the princess and her second in command chattering urgently in what, they could only assume, was the Altean tongue.  
   "What's going on?" Shiro asked.  
   "Well," said Pidge, "did you ever wonder how it is that we can understand most of the aliens we meet?"  
   "No," Keith said shortly.  
   Shiro shrugged.  "I was just grateful to be understood."  
   The young girl gave them a tired glare.  "You guys have no curiosity, I swear.” She turned and began typing something into the main computer. “Did you honestly think that all the aliens we’ve met are just naturally fluent in English?”  
   Lance gestured at her from his seat across the deck.  "I'm still here, if you just forgot about me."  
   She glanced his way. "Did you have something to add, Lance?" she asked dryly.  
   Lance was splayed across his chair with his head in one hand and one leg over the opposite arm.  He pursed his mouth, tired of being generally taken for granted, and finally added an actual thought to the conversation.  "I actually did happen to notice that, actually."  
   "You said 'actually' twice," said Keith.  
   Lance shot him a glare.  "Shut up, Mullet."  He raised his chin proudly and went on with his thought.  "Anyway, I noticed it on Balmera. Shay and the other Balmerans didn't have quite the same speech patterns as anyone else we had met."  
   Pidge looked momentarily surprised,  and shifted her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose to hide the expression.  "You managed to add a worthwhile thought, Lance," she said, as evenly as she could.  The tanned young man smirked,  but she ignored him and went on.  "The castle has a translation system.  Even if Altea was the first to utilize them, I’m betting most larger buildings and spacecraft have similar systems by now. In short, it analyzes and recognizes certain speech patterns and vocabulary, and then broadcasts it so we can (at least generally) understand each other."  She continued her typing on the main computer.  "It can even string words together, like German. So; and again, I'm generalizing; if you're fluent in a language, the system should translate seamlessly."  
   Keith narrowed his eyes.  "So I could've been speaking Japanese the whole time we've been here, and you wouldn't have been able to tell a difference?"  
   "Pretty much.  Of course, there are words and phrases that don't translate, so it does its best to compensate."  Pidge stopped what she was doing and frowned at the screen.  "Looks like it's a hardware issue," she murmured.  "I can get by in Altean for a while, but we're going to have to fix it sooner rather than later."  
   Shiro hummed and flexed his mechanical arm. “I guess that’s our next project, then. What do you need, Pidge?”  
   The teenage girl pulled up a blueprint for the translation system. “It looks like a power short.”  
   Lance’s chin drooped. “You’re saying there’s a fuse out?” he grumbled.  
   “That’s a pretty good analogy,” she admitted, “but no, the computer’s saying there’s corrosion of some kind going on in there.” She pressed a key and a panel on the wall behind Shiro slid open.  
   “It hasn’t been an issue up until now,” Shiro said. “I thought the castle had safety measures for stuff like that. Backup systems or the like.”  
   Pidge harrumphed. “Maybe it should,” she said, “but this thing has gone a long time without maintenance. Even if it did have a backup, it probably would need replacing too. I’m surprised it lasted this long; Earth tech certainly wouldn’t.” She pressed the ejector, and the part slid easily into view.  
   The football-sized piece of equipment looked like most Altean tech; a carefully arranged puzzle of control arms and lasers, centered with a tiny piece of cut crystal. Or, there should have been a crystal. When Pidge released the main control arm, the purple stone fell out into her hand in three pieces.  
   “Aw, quiznak,” she whined.  
   “Did you break it?” asked Lance.  
   “No, I didn’t break it! It was already broken, you moron!” she snapped. Lance laughed at her, and she held the pieces out to Allura.  
   “Quiznak,” the woman muttered in agreement.  
   “Where?” Pidge asked in broken Altean. She pointed to the broken pieces in her hand.  
   Allura understood her. “One planet,” she said slowly, to make sure Pidge understood her. “Only one.”  
   Pidge sighed and mumbled in English. “Great. Why is there only ever one planet that makes this kind of stuff?”  
   Keith folded his arms. “And if it’s anything like the scaultrite, it’s ridiculously dangerous, too.”  
   Pidge ignored him and looked at Allura. “Planet name?”  
   “Aepsis.” She pulled up the map with a wave of her hands, and zoomed in on one particular two-star system. After giving the young girl a moment to examine the map, she indicated the fifth planet from the center, a giant, desert-yellow sphere surrounded by a belt of asteroids.  
   Coran began to rattle off the planet’s stats, but the speed at which he spoke only made Pidge’s head spin. Finally, he noticed her confusion and tried again, this time more slowly.  
   “We don’t know very much about Aepsis,” he said. “It’s a secret place.”  
   “Are there people?” Pidge asked.  
   Coran shook his head. “I don’t know. There used to be.”  
   “Good or bad?” she asked.  
   The redheaded man shrugged. “Solitary.” He held up a finger and tried to teach her a new word. “Monk.”  
   She separated the word into parts first. “Holy… alone… man…Sacred hermit?” Then her eyes lit up. “Monk!”  
   “Very good!”  
   Pidge relayed the information to Shiro in English. “The planet’s name is Aepsis. We don’t know exactly what it’s like now, but it used to be home to a monastery of some sort.”  
   Shiro’s expression relaxed into a smile. “Well, hopefully that means they’re friendly.”  
   The young girl studied the shards of purple stone in her palm. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Earth’s variety of monastic cultures leaves me a little… cynical.”  
   Lance got up and tapped Pidge on the shoulder on his way toward the exit. “Aw, come on, Pidge. How bad could it be?”  
   “You know exactly how bad it could be,” she said. “Where are you going?”  
   “To tell Hunk to suit up. We’ve got a job to do.”  
   Allura glanced at the girl. “Does he know it will take three quintants to get there?” she asked.  
   “No,” Pidge grumbled.


	2. "Storm Warning" - Hunter Hayes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An eventful landing on Aepsis

   Given the mysterious nature of the planet, Shiro decided it would be worthwhile for all five lions to search Aepsis.  
   “Our com lines are still functional, but don’t expect any linguistic help,” Pidge warned as they hurtled toward the planet’s surface. “Without the castle systems, not even our suits’ translators will work.”  
   “Consider us warned,” Keith radioed back.  
   “Wait, what?” Hunk yelped over the com. “You mean we are walking into an unidentified civilization, armed to the teeth, with no ability to communicate? Tell me you realize this is suicide.”  
   “We weren’t planning on an attack, Hunk,” Shiro said soothingly. “We just don’t know which of the lions will handle the environment best.”  
   “Besides that,” said Pidge, “the planet’s weather is pretty disruptive; it would be impossible for anyone to get a signal in or out. Once we’re on the surface, we might not even have our coms. We can try, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work.”  
   “All right,” Shiro sighed. “We’ll split up to search. I want everyone back in communication in twelve vargas or less. Be careful.”  
   And with that, the Voltron team breached the atmosphere.  
   The upper atmosphere was unforgiving, at best. The high-speed winds pushed the larger lions to and fro, forcing Shiro, Lance and Hunk to take firmer grip of their controls. But Pidge and Keith were almost immediately blown off course. The storm violently knocked the red and green lions against each other, and then split them up and hurled them earthward.  
   Shiro shouted into the com, but all that came through was the crackle of static.  
   It felt like several doboshes before Pidge realized she didn’t have to crash-land. The air currents were strong enough to easily push her lion around, so maybe… She turned the lion into the wind and began surfing, using gentle touches on her thrusters to alter her direction and momentum. “Yeah! All right!” she whooped with pride. “That’s my girl!” She circled down in a gentle spiral and tucked her green lion snugly inside a small cave, out of the harsh weather. Once she was safely parked, she opened the coms again. “Shiro? Are you there?”  
   “…m here,” his voice finally came through. “Are you okay?”  
   She sighed and smiled. “I got a knock on the head, but I’m fine. I found a cave to set down in. I’ll see if I can’t find something down here.” Then she unbuckled and gave Green a loving pat as she ventured out into the cave.  
   Keith’s descent wasn’t quite so calm. His being the fastest of the lions, it was disconcerting to be tossed around at the whims of a super-storm. Luckily, the weather was a little calmer as he neared the ground. In a last-ditch effort, Keith pulled nose-up and fired his landing jets. It didn’t work quite the way he had hoped. He overcorrected by only a hair, and a wayward gust of wind slammed the red lion into a rocky outcropping. It bounced off and hit the ground on its side, and finally lay still.  
   The red paladin sat for a moment, catching his breath and shaking off the beating they had taken.  
   “Keith! Keith, are you all right?” Shiro’s voice crackled.  
   “I’m fine.” He groaned. “So much for garrison training,” he mumbled. “Hurricane winds were never this bad.” He soon looked up at his display. “You okay, Red?” he asked.  
   The lion touched his mind. Can’t maneuver. Brace yourself.  
   Keith’s eyes widened. “Oh no…”  
   The ground beneath the red lion crumbled, one foot sinking about twenty feet into the earth. Her paladin let out a cry of alarm.  
   “Keith, what’s going on?”  
   “No! Come on!” He tried to pull her free, but the limb was stuck firmly in the rocks below. “I’m stuck!”  
   The struggling lion jarred the rocks above off their perches and brought them crashing into the ravine on top of them.  
   He didn’t know how long he was out. When he came to, he was slung over someone’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The individual was covered head to toe in a heavy space suit that looked weathered from age and use, and the look was topped with an opaque breathing mask.  
   Keith startled awake with a yell, making the individual tense beneath him. It turned and tried to look him in the face, but that wasn’t enough for Keith, who drove his elbow into the figure’s side as hard as he could. It grunted and dropped him on the sandstone floor, whereupon Keith realized that a couple of his ribs were broken. He groaned and rolled over, but the figure just stood there nursing its side while the young man scrambled backwards.  
   It was only then that Keith noticed that the light in the space was artificial. “Where am I?” he shouted. He heaved a breath. The air was too thin, making him lightheaded. He touched his face. “Where’s my helmet? You… my helmet…” He pressed a hand to his chest and fought to breathe.  
   The individual hurriedly reached over and began to turn a valve on the wall.  
   A hissing noise sounded in the small space, and Keith felt anxiety begin to press in on him. He was going to die here, he just knew it. “Ah… No…” he rasped, pressing himself against the wall of the tunnel. There had to be a way out; there had to be, but Keith couldn’t see it through his panic.  
   The figure stooped closer to him, put both its hands on its hood, and pulled. A cascade of reddish-brown hair tumbled out from under the hood, followed by a pair of sharp green eyes and skin as pale as Pidge’s.  
   Keith’s eyes widened. There was a person under there!  
   “Aria,” it said. The person took a deep breath, held it, and pulled the respirator quickly over its head. Its face was delicate, with a straight, slender nose and full, pouted lips. A young woman? If it was a woman, she was certainly very pretty. She pushed the mask over Keith’s mouth and nose. The young man fought the device away, and she tried again. She said the word, “Aria,” took a breath from the mask, and handed it over to him.  
   This time, he didn’t refuse. He let her press the mask to his face, and he choked down a few hasty breaths of oxygen. Air. The word she had said meant “air.” The sudden presence of breathable atmosphere made his chest hurt, his eyes watering with relief. He clapped both hands down on the mask so hard she had to forcibly pull her hand out from under his.  
   Almost a minute later, the woman indicated herself, and Keith returned the respirator.  
   They took turns sharing the mask until the air in the room had equalized.  
   At last, the woman inhaled deeply and looked around. Her holographic eyes shifted colors as the light hit them at different angles. “Così va meglio,” she murmured, as if pleased with something.  
   Keith finally lifted the mask off his face and handed it to her. “Where’s my helmet?” he asked.  
   She looked down at him, her eyes returning to their verdant green, then smiled sadly and shook her head. “Non capisco.”  
   The red paladin harrumphed and smiled ruefully. “Of course you don’t speak English.”  
   Her eyes seemed to light up. “Inglese?” she asked. She leaned in a little too quickly, and Keith bumped his head trying to back away. She grabbed him by the collar of his armor. “Parla Inglese?” she asked urgently.  
   “Yes, yes, I speak English!” he repeated.  
   She squealed and backed away, clapping her gloved hands together. She touched her chest. “Sono umano! Sono di terra!” She lifted the hair off the nape of her neck, revealing pale, rounded ears.  
   “You’re human…” The young man sat forward in shock. “You’re human!” Pain shot across his chest, and he groaned and sat back again.  
   “Sì, sì! ‘Human’!” she repeated. Her smile tightened, and in spite of the expression, she began to cry deep, heaving sobs of relief. The woman rambled on in the unknown language, shaking with the waver of her weeping, punctuating the phrases with high-pitched gasps.  
   Keith just sat there against the wall of the cave, not quite sure what to do. He never really was good at comforting people, much less being comforted. He spent most of his time on Earth alone, so life hadn’t exactly prepared him for situations like this. Shiro would have known what to do. The thought saddened him, for some reason.  
   A few minutes later, the young woman wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Ma… dov’é il vostro traduttore?” She pointed at him.  
   “My what?”  
   She touched her mouth, and then pointed at him again. “Traduttore.”  
   Oh. His translator. Keith shook his head. “Broken.”  
   She seemed to understand that word. Her eyebrows drooped sadly. “Fix?” she asked in English.  
   Keith shrugged, but he felt himself beginning to relax with the progress they were making. “Maybe.” That was when he remembered the blueprints Pidge had sent him. “I’m looking for a crystal,” he said, slowly and clearly.  
   “Cristallo,” she repeated, holding her fingers up in a diamond shape.  
   Keith nodded.  
   “Che colore é?” she asked, equally slowly.  
   What color is it? Keith frowned. “Purple.” She didn’t know that one, so he tried a synonym. “Uh… Violet.”  
   “Viola.” She smiled and pushed her hair back behind her ear, and rose from her crouched position. “Seguimi,” she said, beckoning him after her.  
   With that gesture, Keith was pretty sure he didn’t need a translation. He picked himself up off the ground and followed her down the tunnel. His chest and back ached when he tried to stand to his full height, and he couldn’t take a deep breath. He followed her through the cave, turn by turn, until he was exhausted.  
   He tripped over a piece of uneven ground and went sprawling onto his front with a pained yell.  
   The woman turned around with a start, and ran back to help him. She bent and took him by the arm. “Dai, amico,” she whispered. “Come.”  
   He gently brushed her off. “I’m okay,” he said, though he wasn’t sure that was true. He needed to sit down. “How much farther?”  
   She stood up, walked a pace away, and pointed around the next bend, and disappeared.  
   Keith heard a zipping sound, and forced himself to his feet once more. He followed the sound, and realized that there was a curtain of durable fabric hanging across an opening in the cave.  
   She glanced at him from over her shoulder, gave him a little smile, and pushed her way beneath the curtain.  
   “Hey, wait!” Keith called after her. “Don’t leave me here!” He burst through the curtain after her, and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the cavern beyond.  
   It was big; at least big enough to house his lion. Like the antechamber, this cave was lit mostly with artificial lights that had been strung from the walls. But unlike the cavern before, the chamber was shaped like an inverted funnel, and when Keith looked up he could see light streaming in from the top of the chimney far, far above. That little bit of light, however, was enough to light up and refract an iridescent purple. The shimmer of color drifted all the way down the chimney, mixing with the artificial yellow light and filling the cave with warm orange.  
   “That’s a long way up,” he muttered. He caught motion out of the corner of his eye, and looked over at the woman, who had unzipped the old space suit and was shrugging it off her narrow shoulders. Underneath, she wore an even more ragged white tunic that draped to her hips, a pair of threadbare black leggings, and a thick chainmail collar around her neck.  
   She turned and watched his eyes for a moment, though what she was looking for he couldn’t have guessed, and then she stepped barefooted out of the suit and folded it up in her arms. She reached out a lanky arm, her wrist ringed with a perfectly circular scar, and pointed to a raised rock, not far away. “Sedersi.”  
   Keith looked at the rock, and finally decided there was nothing for him to do with it except to sit. He sat down on the rock, and the slender young woman padded over to him and studied him for a moment with both hands on her hips.  
   “What?” he asked.  
   She leaned over and tapped his chest plate with the tip of one finger, and then beckoned to him. “Rimuoverla.”  
   He gave her a shocked look. “Rimuo… Remove it?” he shrieked.  
   She nodded. “Sì, rimuoverla.”  
   Keith shook his head vigorously. “I’m not taking my clothes off!”  
   The woman gave him a tired look, and then turned to carefully indicate a section of her own ribcage before pointing at him again. “Broken,” she repeated in heavily accented English. “Rimuoverla.”  
   “No.” He leaned away from her, but that hurt, and anyway she made no move to touch him again. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine, but he stubbornly looked away. “Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about a couple broken ribs.”  
   She twisted her mouth impatiently at him. Then she sat down on the nearby ledge and slid down into a shoulder-deep crevice. She ducked her head and disappeared for a few seconds, but she soon reappeared, clutching a foreign entity in her left hand. She pulled herself easily over the edge of the rock and stood to her full height.  
   Keith hadn’t taken much time to notice, but she was pretty tall, for a human woman. Her figure was lean, but she must have been strong to have been carrying him; she didn’t seem malnourished.  
   He was puzzled at the abrupt thought. Why would she be? What had suddenly made him think she should appear thinner or weaker?  
   The young woman padded over to him and held the object out to him. It was a small, neon blue ball, and it was covered in gently-sloping ridges, like a sea urchin skeleton.  
   “What is that?” he asked.  
   In response, she lifted it to her mouth and bit into it, hard. Keith could hear its crisp outer layer crunch under her teeth. The sound reminded him of a taco shell. Just as suddenly, she released her bite on the little ball and held it out to him again. “Mangiarlo.”  
   Okay, that command couldn’t have been any clearer. She meant for him to eat it. Keith gingerly took it and studied it. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was; it could have been plant, animal, fungus, or any combination of the three. The bite mark she had left in its shell was bruising a pretty shade of purple, and the flesh beneath was a deep maroon. He touched it to his nose. It had an almost sickly-sweet scent of slightly overripe fruit. Okay, so this could possibly be… not awful. He hesitantly took a bite.  
   It was better than he expected. The shell was a little bit too sweet, but the red flesh had a creamy, almost pudding-like texture, with a heavy, jammy flavor accented by something earthy. The taste reminded him strongly of sweet red wine. He hummed thoughtfully. “Not bad,” he mumbled. “Hunk would love this.” He licked the corners of his mouth and took another bite.  
   The woman took a step back and sat down cross-legged in front of him.  
   He glanced at her over the fruit-thing. “Thank you,” he mumbled grudgingly.  
   “Prego,” she answered.  
   Keith felt his spirits lift a little. It was at least nice to have a few breaks in the language barrier. “What’s your name?” he asked.  
   She smirked in understanding. “Mi chiamono Miela.”  
   He narrowed his eyes at her. “Miela.”  
   “Sì. E tu? Come ti chiami?”  
   “Keith.”  
   “Keef…” She frowned and tried again. “Keeth… Keith.”  
   He nodded. “That’s right. Very good… uh… ‘bien’.”  
   “Bene,” she corrected. “Grazie.”  
   Okay, it wasn’t Spanish, but it was close. Not that it mattered; he didn’t know very many Spanish words anyway. Lance’s family spoke Spanish. Maybe he’d be able to understand her. Keith was just lucky their languages had a few words in common, and that Miela understood some English. Maybe once they got the translator working again, she’d be an interesting person to talk to.  
   But what were they going to do with her? It would not be wise to take her with them to fight Zarkon, but at the same time, they couldn’t leave her here, all alone. And at the moment, there was no going back to Earth.  
   Earth. He really had no reason to miss the planet. But it felt so strange, so grounding, to meet a human here, stranded in space. Her presence meant something; connected his spirit to something distantly familiar. Could it be that, here, on this alien planet, he was starting to feel a pull toward home?  
   No, maybe that was gravity. Why did he suddenly feel so heavy? He glanced up through the haze at Miela. “What… what did you give me?” he murmured.  
   “Looks like it’s kicking in,” said a voice. It sounded like her, but it was English… at least, he thought it was English. He understood it, so he had to assume so. He blinked, and she was close, close enough for him to make out her fine features. “It’s for the pain,” her voice said. She gently lowered him to the ground before he could topple over. “Relax. It only lasts a few minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian can be frustrating. For those of you who don't want to use Mr. Google, here are some handy tips.
> 
> Ch- is a 'K' sound. Gl- is an 'L' sound. Please do not pronounce apostrophes.  
> Pronounce all your vowels. Not A, E, I, O, U, but Ah, Eh, Ee, Oh, Oo.  
> That being said, the woman's name is pronounced "Mi-e-la."


	3. “Army of Me” - Björk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge's exploration of Aepsis

   There was no visible sign of life toward the entrance of the cave, but as Pidge descended into the darkness, she started to notice small patches of… something… moss or fungus, she supposed, clinging to the rocks around her. She took a deep breath. Something about the fact that there was life here was reassuring. She opened her scanner and began her search for the mineral she needed.  
   She was startled when her helmet suddenly opened up. “Oxygen?” she mumbled. She sniffed the air. It smelled moist, like rich earth. She hummed thoughtfully. She was deep enough underground… maybe oxygen was heavier than whatever gases made up the rest of the atmosphere.  
   It wasn’t long before Pidge looked up and realized there was something different about the caves through which she was meandering. There was bright light filtering in from an intersecting tunnel. She climbed up to investigate, using her jet packs to help her hop from rock to taller rock. As she neared the mouth of the tunnel, a sense of dread rocked her.  
   Voices. She could hear voices. She slowly poked her head out of the cave, and looked out on a massive cavern, hung high with artificial lights and centered with a complex of ancient buildings. “Whoa,” she breathed.  
   Shiro’s voice sounded in her ear. “What did you find, Pidge?” he asked.  
   “I think it’s the old monastery,” she answered. “But something… something feels wrong.” She watched the buildings for a minute. “I’m going to check it out.”  
   Pidge quickly slid down the steep grade from her ledge and tucked her small body into a dark nook between two boulders. She could hear the occasional banter of alien voices, but she still wasn’t close enough to clearly hear what was being said.  
   At a point about twenty yards from the complex, she started being able to make out their conversation. She reasoned that they must have a translator module.  
   “The next shipment arrives in soon,” said one. “There’s no way we have enough room.”  
   Pidge peeked out of her hiding spot at the alien that had spoken. He was almost as short as she, green-skinned and lanky, with four skinny arms propped on his sides.  
   “Relax,” said another, deeper voice. Pidge didn’t dare lean farther out to try to see the other alien’s face. “We have four quintants to make room, and we’re expecting a couple pretty big sales to the fighter’s guild and the Arena coming up. If they have to sleep four to a bed, it won’t be for long.”  
   Pidge felt her face go pale at the sound of their conversation.  
   “It’s too bad we lost Honey, though,” said the first. “She would’ve fetched a hefty sum.”  
   “Yeah, too bad,” said the other. “If we had clipped her ears, she would’ve looked just like one of those ancient Alteans.” He chuckled. “That would’ve raised her price even more.”  
   The first let out a grunt of dismay. “Stupid half-breed never stood a chance in the storm.”  
   Pidge quickly scurried back towards the cave exit. “Shiro! Shiro, are you there?” She hauled herself into the mouth of the previous cave. “We have a big problem.”


	4. “Star Vicino” - Anonymous: Attributed to Salvator Rosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith wakes up, and the story gets back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another note on Italian: 'c's are a little strange. Ce/ Ci is pronounced "ch", while Ca/ Co/ Cu is pronounced "k".  
> So, "cercare" is pronounced "cher- ka-re".

   Keith awoke to the sound of singing. It was a slow, sad tune, and as the drug slowly wore off he began to make out some of the words.  
   “‘To be near one’s beloved idol  
   Is the sweetest delight of love.  
   It is an enchantment, an intoxication, a longing  
   That joins two hearts into one.’”  
   His eyes drifted open, wandering over the hazy images in front of him. There was a round red and white blob next to his head and then, a couple paces away, Miela sat with her back turned to him, singing up into the funnel above them.  
   It was funny; the more he came awake, the less he understood of the song. The second verse was almost entirely unintelligible.  
   He eventually sat up, his bayard springing to hand in alarm. That’s when the circular blob came into focus; it was his helmet. While he was unconscious, she had found it and brought it to him.  
   Miela heard his movement and glanced at him over her shoulder. She gave him a little smile, and then turned back around and continued into a third verse of the song.  
   Okay, clearly she wasn’t trying to keep him here. Keith stowed his weapon and got up just as the last few notes of the song left her lips.  
   “Ti senti meglio?” she asked. She looked up at him as he came up beside her.  
   “What?”  
   Miela touched her ribs and then pointed at him.  
   Keith hadn’t even thought about his injury. He looked down at himself and raised his arm. His chest was a little sore, but he could breathe, and he had regained most of his range of motion. “It… feels better!” he said.  
   “Feels better,” she parroted, her eyes winking intelligently. Then she tried to piece together a few English words. “You sleep… twenty minute.”  
   Keith looked down at her. So it was her voice he had heard before. “Were you just singing in English?” he asked.  
   She shook her head. “Io non parlo molto Inglese.”  
   Keith shook his head. “No, not ‘parlo.’ Sing. Do you sing in English?”  
   “Sing?” It took her a moment, but her eyes lit up again. “Cantare.” She nodded. “Sì, posso cantare in Inglese.”  
   Keith allowed himself a smirk. That must be how she knew English words. “Lance is going to love you,” he mumbled.  
   She looked at him curiously, but said nothing.  
   Keith beckoned her up. “Come on. I’ve got a job to do, and then we can get out of here.” He took her by the arm and began to pull her toward the cavern’s entrance.  
   She grimaced and resisted him by gently digging her heels into the ground. “Io non vengo con te,” she said softly.  
   He was pretty sure he knew what that meant. She was refusing to go with him. “What? Why not?” he asked.  
   She pointed to the ground. “Devo remanere.” I have to stay here.  
   “Why?”  
   She pointed to her eyes. “Devo cercare qualcuno.” She was looking for… something? Someone? And why did she look so sad when she said that?  
   Keith slowly turned to face her, and let his hand slide down into hers. “Come with me. My friends and I… we’ll help you.”  
   She studied him for a moment, that unfathomable sadness still etched on her face. The expression aged her several years, until Keith wasn’t sure she was as young as he had first thought. Then she spoke. “Mi prometti?”  
   He smirked. “I promise.”


	5. “Garden of Exile” - Toby Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Hunk get to work

   The moment Keith put on his helmet, his ears were assaulted by panicked appeals from his fellow paladins.  
   “Keith, are you okay?”  
   “Hey, Keith, pick up! Come on, Mullet, answer the com!”  
   “You guys think he’s okay? What if he’s hurt? What’ll we do?”  
   “Keith. Come in, Keith. Come on, buddy, let us know you’re all right.”  
   The red paladin gritted his teeth, shook the ringing out of his ears, and finally broke radio silence. “Guys, guys, I’m here.”  
   “Holy crow, what’s wrong with you?” Lance griped. “You were gone for-freaking-ever!”  
   “Seriously? I was gone for, like, twenty minutes. And anyway, didn’t we say it would be a miracle if we could hear each other down here?”  
   Shiro sighed into the com. “Yes, we did. But Hunk found your lion, and hasn’t been able to get in touch with you.”  
   “Dude, where are you?” Hunk asked.  
   “I’m in a cave.”  
   “Not a place I would expect to find the red paladin,” Hunk said dryly.  
   Keith smirked at his teammate’s concern. “It’s a long story.”  
   “You can tell us all about it when we’re back on the ship,” said Shiro. “You were gone a little while; must be a really good story.”  
   “You have no idea.” Then it occurred to him what Shiro had said. “‘Back on the ship’?” he asked. “We’re already going back?”  
   “There’s been a new development.”  
   “What about the crystal for the translator? Did one of you find one?”  
   Miela perked at a word she had recognized and grabbed Keith’s arm. He focused his eyes on her, and she pointed up into the chimney above them.  
   “I found one,” said Pidge. “That’s kind of the development we were talking about.”  
   Keith looked up, and it suddenly dawned on him why the light streaming through the skylight would be purple. A determined smile crossed his face. “I found one, too. Maybe more than one.”  
   “Grab a few and get out of there,” Shiro commanded. “We’ve got a mission to plan.”  
   “I might need some help,” Keith admitted. “My lion’s trapped under a rockslide. I can probably clear out a little bit with my laser, but…”  
   “I got you covered,” Hunk interrupted. “I’ll dig you out.”  
   “Thanks, Hunk.” Keith looked at Miela, and then pointed up at the skylight. “Now, how do we get up there?” He already knew that his jet pack wouldn’t carry him that far up the chimney, and there was no guarantee that his grappling hook would find purchase even if it did reach all the way.  
   But Miela seemed to already have an answer. She picked up the antique space suit, shook it out, and began to put it on again. Once she was completely covered, she pointed at Keith, and then at the exit. “Torno al tuo leone.”  
   Keith understood the word for “lion.” He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way, back in the direction they had come. Her gait was faster now, and her footing was surer than Keith’s, but her suit was baggy and cumbersome, ensuring that she never outran him.  
   It was a shorter distance than Keith had thought. Perhaps it had seemed further earlier, when his injury was more severe. In no time, they had reached the area where Keith had awoken, slung across Miela’s shoulders. The air had become thin again since he was last there, and his visor closed over his face to allow him oxygen. As they walked, he began to feel the winds pushing into the cave between cracks in the boulders.  
   The head of the red lion lay almost sideways in the tunnel, its bay door open and mostly blocking the force of the wind. So that was how Miela had gotten in, he thought. The lion had begged her to save him. He glanced at Miela. How strange, that the red lion should suddenly be so trusting.  
   Maybe he should save those thoughts for when they weren’t trying to get off this planet. Keith shook his head and guided Miela into the cockpit, and shut the bay doors.  
   “Hunk will be finished digging us out any minute,” he said as the cockpit came to life.  
   “Hunk?” she asked.  
   He briefly flicked his eyes up at her. “My friend, Hunk.”  
   “Ah.”  
   “Where are the crystals?” he asked slowly.  
   She pointed in the direction of the tunnel from whence they had come. “A nord un chilometro.” One kilometer north.  
   “He-hey Keith! You’re back!” Hunk’s voice came in loud and clear. “Uh… Who else is in your cockpit?” the yellow paladin asked over the com.  
   “Don’t worry,” said Keith. “It’s a friend. A friend who knows where to find a lot of translator crystals.”  
   “Oh okay, that’s a bit of a relief.” Hunk gave a grunt, and his com flickered.  
   “Hunk! You okay?” That was Shiro’s voice.  
   “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s no wonder our best pilot went down up here. I’m walking and the winds are still pushing me around.”  
   “Will you be okay?” Keith asked.  
   Hunk smiled. “Oh yeah. Great thing about being the guardian spirit of earth, you know. My baby’s got some serious digging power.”  
   “That’s great,” Keith said with a sigh. “I’m going to need a tow.” Already he could feel the rocks shifting around them as his friend began to dig him out of the rockslide. Miela clung to the back of his seat as the red lion tried to right itself. Finally, Keith managed to pull the red lion’s paw free, and struggled to maintain its footing until Hunk propped the yellow lion against his.  
   “All right,” said Hunk. “Now, where are we going?”  
   “One klick north,” said Keith. “I’ll grab the crystals, since you’re going to have to tow me.”  
   “Whatever you say, man.”  
   The two pilots directed their lions northward, leaned against each other to keep from being blown away. It was only a few steps until they could see their target, even through the storm. It was a massive rock wall.  
   “Uh, Keith, this is a dead end,” said Hunk.  
   The red lion looked up. “Nope. There’s a skylight at the top that’s covered in those purple crystals.  
   Hunk sighed. “All right. Hang onto something.” Then he picked up the red lion and towed it to the top of the cliff. The smaller mech swayed in Hunk’s grip at the force of the winds that buffeted it. “Okay, Keith, what’s your plan, exactly?” Hunk asked. “If I put you down, you’ll be blown away.”  
   Keith tried to see the ground through the swirling dirt and debris. “I’m at zero visibility. I don’t know…” Miela tapped him on the shoulder, and he stopped and looked up at her. She pointed off to the left.  
   “Keith? Don’t stop mid-sentence like that.”  
   “Sorry. Change your heading: North-Northwest.”  
   “Got it.” He turned and continued towing the red lion onward through the storm. Only a few paces later, Hunk piped up again. “Hey, Keith, I see something!”  
   “What?” he asked.  
   “It looks like… I dunno, a chimney? But one made out of rocks, like those termite mounds on Earth.”  
   “A termite mound?” Keith’s tone was dry. “Hunk, have you been watching documentaries with Pidge again?”  
   “No,” he said indignantly, “I went on safari with my folks when I was little.”  
   “Bet you really enjoyed that.”  
   “Nah, not really. So what now?”  
   Keith thought for a moment. “I bet I could cut off the top with my jaw blade. Then we could just take the whole thing back with us.”  
   “It could work. It’s hollow inside, right?”  
   “Yeah. Just walk me around it, and we’ll pop the top off just like a can-opener.”  
   “Well, we’ve done stranger things,” Hunk mumbled.  
   Keith ignored him. “Activating jaw blade.”  
   The yellow lion angled itself into the side of the chimney and the red lion’s jaw blade sank into the rock like butter.  
   Hunk let out a whoop as the two lions began circumnavigating the rock. “It’s working!”  
   Miela grabbed Keith’s shoulder. “È troppo grande!” she said warningly.  
   He looked up at her. “What?”  
   “Okay, is it just me, or did that sound like Spanish?” Hunk asked.  
   “It’s not just you.”  
   “Okay, then. In that case, I think he said it’s too big. A-and he wouldn’t be wrong, by the way. It’s about to come down!” His voice rose to a panicked squeak as he pulled back on his controls. The yellow lion leaped away, jerking the red lion and its occupants away from the chimney.  
   Keith’s clean slice cut the rock perfectly in two, and the force of the mighty winds pushed the top of the chimney clean off its base, sending it toppling to the ground. It broke in half, and one big piece rolled up to the two lions.  
   Keith and Hunk were quiet for just a moment. “Well, that’s convenient,” said Hunk. “Grab it, and let’s get out of here. Shiro’s waiting for us.”  
   The red lion bent and scooped up a piece of the boulder big enough to fill its mouth. “You don’t have to remind me,” Keith grumbled. “They’re going to be awfully surprised at what else I brought back with me.”


	6. “Che Gelida Manina” from "La Bohème" - Giacomo Puccini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela meets the team

   He wasn’t wrong.  
   The black, green, and blue lions were all waiting for them in the hangar when they returned.  
   “Took you long enough,” said Lance over the com.  
   “Yeah, well, I had some groceries to pick up,” Keith retorted.  
   Once the hangar doors had closed, the red lion dropped the mass of crystals on the hangar floor and bent down to let its pilot out. Shiro, Pidge and Lance ran up, all still clad in their gear, to greet him.  
   “That’s a big crystal,” Pidge noted. “It’ll be decades before the castle needs a new one after this!”  
   “Decades?” Lance asked. “That little shard inside the console lasted ten thousand years! This thing’ll last forever!”  
   Pidge shot him an annoyed look. “It lasted, sure. That doesn’t mean it had been used.” She stooped to examine the massive crystal colony. “That’s fantastic. I wonder what they’re called.”  
   “I don’t know,” said Keith’s voice.  
   Pidge glanced up at him, and then stumbled backward with a shocked yell at the figure behind him.  
   “Keith, get down!” Shiro snapped, his prosthetic beginning to glow ominously.  
   “Shiro, no!” Keith held both hands out to stop him. “It’s okay. She saved me.”  
   Shiro reluctantly let down his guard. “She?” He looked from Keith to the figure in the space suit, and then back. “You have some explaining to do. Both of you, I think.”  
   “She doesn’t speak English.”  
   Shiro gave him a tired look. “Most of the universe doesn’t speak English. We’ll repair the translator, and then I’m sure we’ve all got questions for your friend.”  
   They all scrubbed down, the figure in the antique suit following mostly by example, and when they were all cleaned and polished, the Voltron pilots took off their helmets and began to settle down.  
   Keith glanced over and realized Miela had yet to remove her gear. He smiled and gestured at her. “It’s okay. You can take it off now.” He tried the word he had heard her say earlier. “Remover-la.”  
   Shiro glanced up at him. “Did you just… was that…?” He looked at the figure, and his eyebrows bent together in a frown. Then he gently corrected Keith, all the while staring intently at the woman in the suit. “Rimuoverla.”  
   Pidge looked up at him. “Shiro, you speak her language?”  
   “Enough to recognize it when I hear it.”  
   “W-what is it?” the girl asked.  
   It was Lance who answered. “That’s… Italian.” He looked around at the rest of his friends. “You guys know what that means, right?” he asked excitedly. “She’s-!” Miela pulled off her hood and respirator, and Lance cut himself off. “She’s…”  
   “She’s _human_?” Pidge and Hunk cried.  
   “Oh my gosh, she’s _gorgeous_!” Lance fawned, his voice rising over the astonished exclamations around him.  
   Keith let his expression relax into a smile. “Everyone, this is Miela. She saved my life, down on Aepsis.”  
   “Whoa, really?” Pidge asked.  
   “Yeah. And she speaks a few English words, so…” he trailed off.  
   “Awesome.” The young girl approached Miela. The woman was taller than her; almost as tall as Allura. Pidge held out her hand. “They call me Pidge,” she said slowly.  
   “Pidge,” Miela repeated. Then she reached out and took Pidge’s hand. “Mi chiamono Miela.” She gave the girl a greeting nod and a sunny smile. “Piacere di conoscerti.”  
   Pidge smiled, but if anything, Shiro’s frown became more severe. Something was bugging him about that phrase, “Mi chiamono.” It was a common enough saying, but if he was right, it meant that there was something Miela was willfully hiding from them.  
   Hunk gave her a wave and said his name, and then Lance gave a flourish and a bow.  
   “I’m Lance, and you’re beautiful.” He raised his eyes and gave her a wink.  
   Miela’s face turned pink, and she gave him a hesitant smile and a little nod.  
   Finally, Shiro stepped toward her.  
   He was taller and definitely more mature than the other four pilots, and so he towered over the young woman. He wasn’t bad-looking; he had what probably used to be a military under-cut that had gone prematurely white in one spot on the front, and a deep scar across the bridge of his nose, but what struck her the most were a pair of dark, expressive eyes that studied her cautiously.  
   He held out his right hand to her in a casual greeting.  
   She glanced at the Galra prosthetic, but didn’t hesitate in taking his hand.  
   “Mi chiamo Takashi Shirogane.” The smile he wore told her he was as wary of her as she was of him. “Mi chiamono Shiro.”  
   A brief flash of surprise crossed her face, and then her face reddened a little and she returned his tight-lipped smile.  
   “All right!” said Lance. “Keith gave her a ride in the red lion, so how about _I_ show her around the castle?” He took a step toward the young woman, but Shiro grabbed his collar.  
   “Lance. Language barrier.”  
   Lance made a circle with his finger and thumb. “Nessun problema. I got this, Shiro.”  
   “Somehow I doubt that.” He released Lance’s collar. “Fine. Keep flirting to a minimum. Last thing you need is for her to punch you.” He flicked his eyes at Keith. “And you. You’ve built a rapport with her. It’s up to you to make sure she’s comfortable.” Then he and the other two paladins turned and left.  
   Lance glared daggers at Keith, who was oblivious to the look. The red paladin sighed and turned on his heel. “Okay. I’m gonna go change.”  
   Miela made a noise in her throat and touched Keith’s arm.  
   He turned to look at her. The expression on her face was clear. Don’t leave me here.  
   Keith’s expression softened, and he held up his hand, fingers spread. “Five minutes,” he said. Then he turned and left the lounge.  
   “Cinque minuti,” Lance repeated.  
   She looked to the blue paladin. “Dove sta andando?” she asked, her voice tense.  
   Lance shrugged and answered in Italian. “He’s going to change clothes.”  
   She looked relieved. “Va bene.”  
   Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “You like Keith?”  
   “He’s familiar.” She glanced at him and met his stare. “And you speak Italian?”  
   Lance shrugged. “Some. My family is Cuban, so Italian’s pretty easy.”  
   She laughed shortly. “Maybe for you. I’ve never known Spanish to be so easy.”  
   “Keith said you knew some English, though.”  
   She nodded. “I pick up words here and there. I told him I can sing in English.”  
   “You sing?” Lance grinned. “That’s awesome! Beautiful and talented!”  
   Miela tittered shyly. “Well, it helps sometimes.” A look of sadness fell over her features, but it was soon gone again.  
   Lance studied her a moment longer. “How did you end up in space?” he asked. “You’re no astronaut.”  
   Miela hung her head. “N-no. I’m not.”  
   That was an expression Lance had a little trouble deciphering. Was that… shame? He slowly touched her shoulder. “Hey.” She looked up at him, and Lance was startled to see tears in her eyes. “Whatever it is, whatever you’ve been through… we won’t judge you.” He rolled his eyes. “Trust me. We’ve learned a lot about each other in the past…” He counted on his fingers for a moment. “Three weeks? I’ve lost track. A lot’s happened.”  
   “You’ve only been here for three weeks?” she asked, turning to face him full on.  
   “Yeah. Well, four of us have. Shiro…” Lance sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “He was taken by the Galra a little more than a year ago.”  
   “Oh.” Her eyes flicked to the floor, and then wandered over to the door, from whence Shiro had left. “That… I guess that explains a couple things.”  
   “Yeah.” His face brightened, and he turned to look at her. “Oh, did you want to change out of your suit?”  
   Miela blushed. “I… I don’t have another change of clothes.”  
   Lance’s face went red all the way to his ears. “Y… you don’t have any clothes…”  
   “Lance!” came Keith’s annoyed growl. He was standing in the door, wearing his black shirt and favorite red jacket. “What is she saying? Why does she look so uncomfortable?”  
   “K-Keith!” Lance yelped. “S-she says she doesn’t have any clothes-!”  
   “Of course she has on clothes,” Keith replied. “I watched her put her suit on. She had clothes on underneath.” He looked over at Miela, who still looked uncomfortable and ashamed. Then he sighed. “She’s in rags,” he explained. He watched Lance’s blush fade in pity. “Come on. Let’s find her something to wear.”  
   “Great,” said Lance. “Maybe I can change too?”  
   “Maybe if she doesn’t end up wearing _your_ uniform.”  
   Lance was quiet for a moment, and then he raised his eyebrows. “I’d be okay with that.”  
   Keith sighed. “Of course you would.”  
   “You think Allura would have clothes for her?” Lance asked as they made their way across the castle. He had given up on the idea of Miela wearing his uniform, but he let the thought of it play through his head a time or two before letting it go.  
   “Yeah, probably,” said Keith. “Pidge is busy, and I’m sure Allura has more clothes than she knows what to do with.”  
   “Yeah, you’re probably right. She _is_ a princess, after all.” A new series of images floated through his head; Miela wearing the flowing gowns of royalty. The thought made him smile dreamily.  
   “Quit drooling, Lance,” Keith mumbled from in front of them.  
   “I’m not drooling!”  
   The three of them filed onto the deck on that note, and Princess Allura turned around at the sound. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the stranger, and she said a few words in Altean that none of them understood. After a moment, she approached them and held out her hand.  
   “Allura,” she said.  
   Miela clasped her hand. “Miela.”  
   Lance glanced sideways at Miela and said something in Italian.  
   The young woman inhaled sharply, eyes widening in shock, and then she took Allura’s hand in both of hers and bent at the waist until her forehead touched the princess’ fingertips. Both boys looked stunned at her reaction to the news that she was meeting royalty.  
   Then Keith shot Lance a glare and put his hands on his hips.  
   “I didn’t mean to!” Lance backpedaled, waving his hands defensively.  
   Allura seemed startled by the show of reverence, but when the moment passed, she put her hand on Miela’s shoulder and brought her back to full height with a welcome smile.  
   Keith cleared his throat, and Allura glanced at him. He tweaked his jacket lapels with both hands, and then pointed at Miela.  
   Allura took the hint and scanned the woman’s figure, mostly hidden in the baggy space suit. Then she smirked and nodded at Keith, took Miela by the hand, and led her into the castle, with Lance and Keith trailing along behind them.  
   The princess stopped them at her quarters and shook a finger at the two boys, indicating that they were not to enter.  
   Keith folded his arms across his chest. “I guess that means ‘no boys allowed’.”  
   “Aw, man,” Lance whined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First pic!  
>   
> [Cool Reception](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Cool-Reception-671547070) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	7. "Always a Woman" -  Billy Joel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro shares his concerns with Pidge

   “What’s the matter, Shiro?” Pidge asked once they were comfortably out of their uniforms. She was sitting in the middle of the engineering room, working with a laser saw that was busily slicing away at the colony of purple crystals. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act like that.”  
   “Like what?” he asked. He stood against the wall, out of her way, his arms folded.  
   She shrugged. “I dunno. Seemed like you were giving Miela the cold shoulder. I mean, we don’t even know her.”  
   Shiro sighed. “I was, wasn’t I?” he murmured. “Sorry. I’ll apologize to her. It’s just that I got a weird vibe from her.”  
   “Vibe?” Pidge asked. “Come on, Shiro. You can do better than that,” she teased.  
   He ignored the playful jab. “Did you get the gist of what I said to her?” he asked.  
   The girl looked up at him. “You… said your full name…” she said. “But then you also told her our nickname for you.”  
   “Exactly,” he said. “The word ‘chiamare’ means ‘to call’. So, ‘Mi chiamo Takashi Shirogane’.”  
   Pidge smiled a little. “I get it. And she said something different. She said the word ‘chiamono’.” She paused and frowned. “Wait… that sounds a lot like the same word.”  
   “It is. ‘Chiamo’ is first-person reflexive. ‘I call myself’.”  
   Pidge flashed upon the recent memory of introducing herself to Miela, and hummed thoughtfully. “‘Chiamono’ must mean ‘they call me,’ then.” She looked up at Shiro. “So it’s possible that she didn’t give us her real name.” She turned and went back to work. “Is that so bad? I mean, I did that.”  
   Shiro sighed. “No, I guess not.” He scratched his eyebrow with the tip of one finger. “Although, that’s still a weird nickname.”  
   Pidge gave him a dry look. “So is mine, Shiro.”  
   “You think it means something?” he asked absently.  
   Her expression lifted. “I dunno. Maybe.”  
   He hummed. “I can’t shake the feeling that it means something.”  
   “Well,” Pidge said with a sigh, “we’ve got some time before this thing is done. Maybe it’ll come to you.”  
   “Maybe.” He grumbled and folded his arms again. “It’ll bug me otherwise.”


	8. "Arabesque No. 1" - Claude Debussy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Allura helps Miela settle in

   Allura showed the confused young woman the bath, showed her how to operate the door, and gave her a towel and a bathrobe, and then left her alone in the bathroom.  
   Miela stood there for a moment, still looking around, and then set the towel and bathrobe on the counter and began to remove her gear. She carefully folded the space suit, and was about to remove her tunic when she noticed four small, furry bodies on the counter next to her towel.  
   She let out a high-pitched yelp and jumped backward, but relaxed again when she recognized the creatures. They were mice; they didn’t look quite like earth mice, but their features were unmistakeable. Miela let out a sigh.  
   The mice sat up on their haunches and studied her. They didn’t seem to be afraid of her at all, so Miela slowly reached her hand down and touched her fingertips to the counter.  
   The largest of the mice, a yellow-tinted, sleepy-looking animal, put his paws on the ball of her hand, sniffed her once, and hopped into her palm.  
   Hm. Tame mice. They must be Princess Allura’s pets, she reasoned. She stroked the yellow mouse’s ears with the tip of her thumb.  
   It suddenly turned around in her palm and squeaked down at the other three mice, which then scurried over to a small console and began pressing buttons. All at once, the faucet on the tub turned on, and the bathroom began filling with steam.  
   Miela’s eyebrows went up in surprise. So they weren’t just tame, but intelligent, too! She smiled down at the oversized tub. At least her stay here might be enjoyable.  
   Once she had figured out what was soap and what wasn’t, the rest of her bath was relaxing. She sat in the hot water for almost half an hour. Hot water, she mused; if there was one thing about earth she had missed, it was that.  
   The water never grew cold, but she eventually pulled herself out of the tub and dried herself with a plush towel fit for royalty. How in the heavens did she go from scrounging for food on an alien planet to being bathed by a princess in a castle? She slid the robe on over her slender figure, careful to hide the choker around her neck, and opened the door.  
   Princess Allura had opened a wall panel in her room and was perusing a gigantic closet. Most of the clothes were luxuriant, by Miela’s standards, silks and satins and otherworldly delights draped to the floor. The young woman inhaled sharply.  
   Allura turned around and looked at Miela. “Oh!” she said. “Welcome back. You look like you feel better.”  
   Miela blinked. “I… I understood you!” She had a curiously curved accent, but the words were clear.  
   The princess looked up at a screen next to her closet. “Yes. It seems like Pidge finished repairing our translator module while you were in the bath.” She smiled. “That was quicker than I expected.”  
   Miela let out a sigh. “Thank God. I was a little worried. I’d hate to burden Lance with translating for me the whole time I’m here.”  
   Allura gave her a knowing look. “I’m sure he could’ve handled the job.” She turned back around and continued thumbing through the closet. “Of all the paladins, he has the least on his plate.”  
   “Paladins?” Miela asked. “That’s what you call them?”  
   Allura made an affirmative sound.  
   “That seems fitting.”  
   The princess looked over her shoulder at Miela. “How do you mean?”  
   “My world has several legends of the same name.” She folded her hands in front of her.  
   “Well, if you remember any of them, do let me know,” said Allura. “I love stories.” She turned and beckoned to Miela. “Come and take a look at some of these outfits. Maybe you can tell what will fit better than I can.”  
   Miela slowly made her way across the room toward the princess, and glanced at the racks of clothes from over her shoulder. “It’s all so… so fancy,” she said. “I’m not sure I’ll do any of it justice.”  
   “Oh, nonsense,” Allura scoffed. “Do you prefer trousers or skirts?”  
   “Whatever you deem appropriate, your highness.”  
   At her reply, Allura stopped and turned around. “That’s… I appreciate the respect, don’t get me wrong, but I would prefer your candor. And please, just call me Allura.”  
   Miela gave her a wary smile. “It might be a hard habit to break, but I’ll try… Allura.”  
   The princess smiled and returned her attention to the clothes. “So, what do you think?”  
   Miela sighed and relented. “I’d like something that covers my belly.”  
   Allura made a noise of approval. “That narrows it down.” She pulled up a small screen and began entering search terms. In a few seconds, the closet rotated, pulling back on the items the princess had selected for removal. “What next?”  
   “Formal gowns and dresses seem a little bit much.”  
   “Hm. Pity. With your figure, you might be able to pull them off.”  
   Miela smiled. “I could try one on, if you like.”  
   Allura glanced at her over her right shoulder. “And play dress-up like little girls?” Then she stopped. “You know, that actually sounds like fun!”  
   “Princess…” There was a touch of laughter in her voice.  
   Allura clicked her tongue at Miela’s tone. “Oh, you’re right. Perhaps later, though.” She looked down and pressed a few more tabs on her console. “Perhaps something a bit more versatile, then…” When she looked up again, her face bent into an expression of shocked dismay. Among the few clothes that remained, one was her own paladin’s uniform, and one was the tattered remains of a black jumpsuit that Keith had worn, not so long ago. “How did _that_ thing get in here?” she asked softly.  
   “Princess?” Miela asked. She looked up at the black garment, and slowly reached to touch it. “It looks pretty comfortable,” she said.  
   Allura glanced at her. “It was Keith’s,” she said. “And it’s pretty badly damaged.”  
   “Oh.” She reluctantly released the fabric between her fingers.  
   Allura was quick to reassure her. “If you like something like that, though, I might have something similar.” She added under her breath, “And maybe a bit more feminine.”


	9. “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” - Cole Porter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela gets a makeover

   By the time Miela emerged from Princess Allura’s quarters, both the young men who had accompanied her had vanished. That was all right, because Miela had no real desire to show off the outfit Allura had chosen for her. It wasn’t unattractive, she thought. Maybe that was her problem with it; the suit her hostess had chosen was sleek and black, and was fitted with flexible protective plating; the chest plate and high neckline were inlaid with an ornate gold design. It was beautiful; too beautiful for her to wear.  
   But it was black, and black was good.  
   She decided to leave her auburn hair down, so that it draped flat across her shoulders. The more she could hide the bulge of that quiznaking choker, the better. She tugged on her high collar, but she couldn’t make it any more comfortable.  
   “Are you ready?” Allura asked.  
   “I’m ready,” she replied, careful not to call her “Princess” again.  
   Allura placed her hand on Miela’s shoulder. “You look nervous,” she said gently.  
   Miela laughed under her breath. “I am nervous. I don’t suppose you saw the clothes I brought in with me.”  
   “I saw the space suit.”  
   “Well, then I’ll go ahead and let you know it’s been quite a while since I wore something that flaunted my figure,” Miela murmured.  
   Allura chuckled. “Is that why you turned down a dress?”  
   “Allura…” But the princess just laughed, and finally, Miela smiled. “Yes, that’s partially why.”  
   “I think you can relax,” said Allura. “I don’t think anyone except Lance would say anything.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “And don’t let him fool you. He’s completely harmless.”  
   “Did he flirt with you too?”  
   “Of course.” She smirked at the memory. “Luckily, I put him in his place very quickly.”  
   Miela smiled. “I might have enjoyed watching that.”  
   Allura laughed, and then when she had run out of laughter, she smiled pensively. “It’s been ages since I’ve talked with anyone like this.”  
   The shorter woman’s smile turned a little sad. “It must be lonely at the top.”  
   Allura looked at her, but decided she wasn’t being sarcastic. “I suppose that’s true. I’m sure Shiro would agree.”  
   “Shiro?” The brunette looked at the corridor floor. “I don’t think I made a very good impression.”  
   “What makes you say that?”  
   “He seemed a little… cold, I suppose.”  
   Allura frowned. “That’s odd. Shiro is usually very friendly.”  
   Miela glanced up at her. “That seems surprising, considering what I’ve been told of his history.” She looked at her feet again. “Then again, I can’t say I really blame him.”  
   Allura smirked. “Maybe you intimidate him.”  
   “ _Me_?” Miela stopped and put a hand to her chest. “How could _I_ …?” She stopped. “Well, that would explain why his hand started glowing the first time he saw me.”  
   Allura tittered at her. “We could ask him,” she teased.  
   “Allura, no,” her new friend whined. “If the mission goes according to plan, I shouldn’t be here more than a few quintants. The last thing I need is to make any enemies while I’m here.”  
   The princess flicked her silver hair and harrumphed. “Well, if he doesn’t like you, he’s missing out,” she decided.  
   “I’m honored you might think so.” Miela sighed. “It’s a relief to know I might have a friend or two floating out here in the void.”  
   That line took the laughter out of Allura’s expression. “How long have you been away from Earth?” she asked softly.  
   The shorter woman shook her head. “I’m not sure. I know what year it was when I left, but…” She shrugged. “I can guess. I know it’s been at least a year.”  
   Allura was silent for a moment as they walked. Almost a dobosh later, she finally found the words for what she had wanted to say. “It sounds to me,” she began, haltingly, “like you and Shiro may be much more alike than you realize.”  
   Miela glanced up at her, but said nothing.  
   “You’re both kind people, but very private, and not really very trusting,” she explained. “You might be willing to give people the answers they seek, but they have to ask you the right questions first. For people around you, though, that can be frustrating. And it can keep people like Shiro from trusting you very quickly.”  
   “I see.” Miela looked at her boots.  
   “And,” the princess continued, “if I’m right, that means he’ll be approaching you to deliver an apology soon.”  
   Miela looked up at her. “Why would he?”  
   Allura gave her a soft smile. “Shiro’s not like that. If there’s bad blood between you, there won’t be for long.” She took a few steps ahead of Miela and turned to face the door they had approached.  
   “Should I be relieved or scared?” Miela asked.  
   Allura smirked and opened the door to the bridge of the ship. “I think you’d do the same.” She winked at Miela. “Am I right?”  
   The brunette considered her, and then smiled back. “I suppose you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New picture! This thing took me forever!
> 
> [Miela (Voltron OC)](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Miela-Voltron-OC-671896534) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	10. “Long Cool Woman” - The Hollies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela makes a somewhat puzzling first impression

   Lance was the first to look up at her as they stepped onto the bridge. “Holy…” He stumbled over his tongue, and finished with a lame and very soft, “wow.”  
   Keith turned to look at the two women. When he recognized Miela, his face took on the barest hint of a confident smile. “You look like you feel better,” he said. He quickly glanced over at Pidge, who was still digging at the translation module with one of her tools. “Are you sure that thing’s working, Pidge?”  
   “Dude, will you cut it out?” she griped. “If you think it’s so easy, why don’t you come and mess with it?” She thought briefly about what she had said, and made a noise and hand gesture to stop him from answering. “On second thought, I don’t need you breaking anything. You stay over there.”  
   Miela couldn’t help herself. She began chuckling under her breath.  
   Hunk turned and looked at her from over the back of his chair. “Oop- yeah, she understands us now.”  
   Pidge finally glanced over at the other two women. “Which one? Allura or Miela?”  
   “Does it matter?” Keith asked.  
   A warm, low voice drifted out from the corridor behind the two women. “All right, guys, that’s enough.”  
   Miela turned to look over her shoulder, and was shocked to see Shiro standing behind her with an easy smile on his face. After their initial meeting, it surprised her that his voice could be so gentle, or even that he could smile, despite Allura’s description of him. He was wearing a black vest and crew-neck shirt, one sleeve of which had been truncated at the bicep, revealing the metal plates of his prosthetic.  
   Shiro glanced down at her, and his smile widened. “Don’t look so surprised. Surely I don’t scare you that much.”  
   Miela’s eyebrows came down into a slight frown. “You don’t.”  
   The black paladin laughed under his breath. “Good.” He looked over at the girl in the corner. “Pidge? You almost done?”  
   “Give me ten ticks.”  
   “Okay. When you’re done, we’ll start planning the mission.” He looked back at Miela. “May I have a word with you in private?” he asked.  
   Miela glanced at Allura, who winked.  
   “S-sure,” she said hesitantly. Then she turned and followed Shiro back into the hall.  
   When the door had closed behind them, Shiro turned to face Miela. The smile in his face turned a little sad. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”  
   Miela smirked and shook her head. “I beg to differ,” she said softly. “A man in your position has every right to be suspicious of strangers, human or not.” She glanced at the floor. “I need to thank you all for hosting me, too. I honestly wasn’t expecting to come aboard.” She ran her fingers nervously through her hair. “I conveyed my thanks to Princess Allura, but at the time… well, I’m not sure my meaning came across.”  
   Shiro chuckled. “Considering what Lance and Keith told me, I’m pretty sure it did.” He looked directly at her. “I think that’s what really changed my mind about you.”  
   Miela felt her face grow warm. “That… that was pretty embarrassing.” She smiled sheepishly up at him. “Thankfully, the princess… Allura is very forgiving.”  
   “She is that.”  
   Miela’s smile faded, and she looked him in the eye.  
   Startled by her abrupt seriousness, Shiro’s face suddenly bent into a frown.  
   “I don’t intend to cause trouble,” the young woman said. Then she looked at the floor again. “I just… I need you to understand that.”  
   The statement surprised Shiro, and his expression relaxed. After a moment, he set his right hand on her shoulder.  
   She glanced at the prosthetic. It wasn’t all gears and plates; the weight of his hand had a certain give to it, flexible and pliable as natural flesh. The only thing really missing was its warmth. Then she looked up at him.  
   “Keith told me how you met,” he said gently. “And if what he says is true, then you’ve more than earned my trust.”  
   Miela ducked her head in a slight bow. “I’m honored.” She flicked her eyes up at him, and Shiro picked up on a hint of humility as she cast her gaze down again. “I won’t betray it.”  
   Shiro looked surprised at her earnestness, and then let out a sheepish laugh. “Look at us, being all serious,” he chuckled.  
   Miela pursed her lips, but couldn’t quite hide her smile. “Sorry.”  
   Shiro gave her shoulder a final pat and ushered her back onto the bridge. “Welcome aboard.”  
   “Thank you.”  
   Pidge glanced up from her console. “Hey! You guys are back just in time. I was just pulling up my last coordinates on Aepsis, and I could use Miela’s input.”  
   The young woman next to Shiro nodded graciously. “Of course. Whatever you need.”  
   The girl grinned up at her, and then waved her over. “I’ve put in some preliminary scans of the monastery, but I wasn’t able to go over the entire area.” She glanced up at the woman. “You were on Aepsis quite a while. Is there anything you can tell us about the planet?”  
   Miela looked down at her, and then took control of the console.  
   To Pidge’s surprise, the stranger was able to create a fairly detailed map of the tunnels beneath Aepsis, along with notes on the atmosphere and the locations of hazardous gas pockets.  
   Keith glanced over at her. “Do you know how many hostiles we’ll be facing?”  
   Miela looked up and shook her head. “I’m afraid not.” She went back to working on the console. “The last time I tried to infiltrate it, my numbers were so far off I almost didn’t get back out.”  
   The red paladin folded his arms. “Yeah, but you’re one person, and you’re unarmed.”  
   Miela harrumphed. “That’s not quite true, actually.” She smirked. “I was able to subdue three of them by myself, before I realized I had to get away.”  
   Hunk started backward at this new information. “Wait, you what?” he yelped. “You took down three guys with your bare hands?”  
   Miela’s face went red, and she rushed on. “Y… yeah. My problem was that I couldn’t use their weapons. They have DNA recognition, and mine… well, they don’t recognize mine.”  
   Shiro folded his arms and studied her from across the room. Little by little, he was starting to see something troubling in Miela; not dangerous, but perhaps a little unsettling. She was strong, and hid it well… she had answers, and didn’t hide it so well. But worst, he thought, was the outfit that Allura had seen fit to give her. Black, with gold accents. It wasn’t bad-looking; quite the contrary. It suited her, perhaps too well. But if anything it made Shiro feel like he should be at odds with her somehow. The reigning black paladin against a black-clad stranger. And then there was her attitude; earnest and sweet, but vastly mysterious; that was dangerous. It was dangerous because the rest of the crew were beginning to like Miela.  
   It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. He just didn’t like where this was going.  
   Miela caught him looking at her, and quickly turned to hide her embarrassed flush. “Anyway,” she said, “there are three major entrances to the Big Cavern, all of them guarded. Most of the minor access points, like the one Pidge came through, are several meters above the cavern floor, but one of them comes up through the rift that the complex sits on. If we came through that way, we would stay undetected for longer.”  
   Pidge spoke up. “The caves I came through were way too small for our speeders,” she said. “I mean, maybe we could use them at first, but this place isn’t like Balmera, where the caves are always big enough to walk through.”  
   “It’s like Earth,” Lance murmured, almost wistfully.  
   “Also,” said Pidge, “the tunnels don’t go all the way to the planet’s core. They kind of stretch and wind right under the surface.”  
   Keith blinked. “I guess that explains why I didn’t notice a pressure change,” he said, rubbing his ear.  
   Miela nodded at him. “Precisely. We never descended far enough for there to be a noticeable difference.”  
   Allura suddenly noticed something Miela had said, and piped up. “Hold on, go back a moment,” she said, holding up her hand to pause the conversation. “Did you say, ‘We’?”  
   The woman in black looked at the princess. “What?”  
   “When you were describing the route beneath the monastery. You said, ‘If _we_ came through that way, _we_ would stay undetected.”  
   Miela nodded. “Yes, I did say that,” she said evenly. No excuses, no half-hearted take-backs. “I intend to return with your paladins to Aepsis’ surface.”  
   The alarm in Allura’s face was easily recognizable, but she soon quashed it in favor of her stubborn royal frown. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.” Miela’s face was blank, as if she hardly registered the order, so Allura went on, her expression slowly returning to worry. “I understand you’ve made attempts before and come out unscathed, but…”  
   “I don’t think that is true,” Miela cut in. Her voice was still low and even, but her expression had shifted slightly toward indignant.  
   Allura went on in spite of the interruption. “But this is a Voltron-class mission. You were unable to give us fine details of a hostile environment, which means that if you go back down there unprepared, you could be killed.”  
   Miela was undeterred. “You don’t understand. I _have_ to go back.” There. The emotion was in her voice this time, potent enough to make everyone’s eyes turn and look at her. “I _have_ to find someone.”  
   Keith stood up from his seat. “That’s right. I almost forgot. That’s why you didn’t want to come with me at first.”  
   Miela nodded, and then a look of surprise crossed her face when she felt a hand on her arm. She glanced down at Pidge.  
   The girl curled her fingers in the fabric of Miela’s sleeve. “Miela,” she said, “When the Galra took Shiro, they took my brother and my dad with him. If anyone knows what you’re going through, it’s me.” She looked up into Miela’s eyes, and saw humility flicker through them again. “I would do the same thing if I were you, but we have to be prepared.”  
   Miela sighed. “Forgive my outburst,” she said. “It was not my place.”  
   “What was or wasn’t your place is not an issue,” Princess Allura reassured her. “If anything, we _want_ to help you find whoever you’re looking for, and we will need your help as we continue planning the mission. We’re just trying to keep collateral damage to a minimum.”  
   The young woman looked at the floor. “I… I understand.”  
   That look that crossed her face then felt like a knife in Pidge’s chest. She herself had made that same face countless times in the past year, when she was so desperate and so tired that tears would no longer form. Wasn’t there something she could do?  
   Finally, Pidge looked up. “We could deploy the BLIP tech, like we did on Balmera,” she suggested. “It wouldn’t give us an accurate reading of hostiles, since they’re not Galra drones, but at least we’d have a better idea of the number of people down there.”  
   Allura twisted her mouth in thought. “That’s an idea,” she murmured.  
   “And I could modify them to be mobile, so that we can look around without risking too much exposure.”  
   The princess harrumphed. “It’s feasible, but we would still have to be on Aepsis’ surface in order to control them remotely. I can’t control them from orbit. Landing the castle might cause a stir.” She looked around and sighed. “Pidge, go ahead and start on those modifications. We’ll finish planning in the morning. All of you, get some rest.”


	11. “L’amour est un Oiseau Rebelle” from "Carmen" - Georges Bizet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela is astounding and doesn't mean to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody has heard this song. Don't lie. Look it up.

   Keith showed Miela her quarters, a simple one-room suite with a single bed, and then took her across the castle to the kitchen, where Hunk had already laid out half the contents of the pantry for cooking.  
   “Does he know what he’s doing?” Miela murmured at Keith.  
   He grinned down at her. “Oh yeah.” He led her into the kitchen. “Hey, Hunk. Anything we can do to help?”  
   The larger teen raised his head from under the counter and scowled at Keith. “I’m good. I’m not sure I trust you or Lance with anything more complicated than food goo.”  
   Keith folded his arms and glanced at their guest. “Our resident gourmand at work,” he mumbled.  
   Miela looked at Hunk, who was rummaging in the cabinets under the counter. “Do you mind if I stay and watch?” she asked both of them.  
   Hunk looked up at Keith, and then glanced at Miela. “I don’t mind.”  
   The red paladin shrugged. “Okay. The rest of us will be in the dining room.” He gave Miela a reassuring glance, and then turned and walked away.  
   Hunk went back to rummaging under the counter, but it soon became clear that he wasn’t able to find what he was looking for. “Aw, man, where is it?”  
   Miela smirked. “What are you looking for?”  
   Hunk growled in frustration and pulled his head out of the cabinet. “Some spices I picked up on Arus. They’re orange, with purple flowers.”  
   The woman looked around. “Neeldemak?” she asked.  
   There was a thump as Hunk bumped his head on the counter. “Ow!” He rubbed his head and looked up at her. “Yeah. How did you know that?”  
   “It’s already on the counter.” She pointed across the kitchen at a leafy, orange bundle with bulbous purple florets.  
   Hunk got up and retrieved the bundle of herbs, then cupped them in his hands for a moment before looking up at Miela. “I’ve got a lot of questions right now, and I can’t seem to find the words for any of them.”  
   The woman smiled. “Ask me as you find them. I’m sure I have answers.” She wandered over to the sink and began washing her hands. “What are you making? With neeldemak, you must be going for something tart.”  
   Hunk scratched his chin. “I dunno. I usually just throw stuff together and figure out what works.”  
   Miela chuckled. “Spoken like a true chef.” She hummed thoughtfully. “How about…” She scanned the counter top and plucked a few ingredients off its surface, one at a time. She mumbled under her breath as she worked, and Hunk watched her for a moment before he suddenly tuned into her thought processes.  
   “Wait, I know that dish,” he said. A smile spread across his face, and he picked up a cutting board and began chopping the orange herb into fine pieces. “You’re imitating veal piccata! That’s ingenious!”  
   The woman smiled. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “I just found a few things that remind me of home.” She picked up a small, black berry and rubbed it on her teeth, and then hummed at the flavor. “Too sweet.” She discarded the berry.  
   “What do you need?” Hunk asked.  
   Miela touched her thumb and finger together in a very Italian gesture. “Something floral with some bite, like black pepper.” She scanned the counter again. “How about…”  
   “Drusich flowers,” said Hunk.  
   Miela lit up. “Yes! But don’t cut it in with the neeldemak, or it’ll-”  
   “-overpower the flavor!” he finished for her. “This is gonna be great! I bet Lance will cry.” He shrugged and picked up a cutlet of lavender-colored meat. “I mean, if it’s as good as I think it’s gonna be, I might cry too. Just saying.”  
   The young woman laughed. “We could have a citrus theme, you know. You’ve got enough neeldemak to do several dishes.”  
   Hunk sighed. “I do, but I’m not sure when we’ll be going back to Arus. I might not get a chance to stock up for a while.” He looked at the pile of chopped herbs on his cutting board. “It’s kind of sad to think we might not be going back at all.”  
   Miela glanced at him, and then carefully studied the counter. Finally, she looked up. “If it’s any consolation, it’s not specific to Arus. That’s how I recognized it.”  
   Hunk met her gaze, and cracked a little smile. “Yeah, I guess that does make me feel better.”  
   She smirked back. “If you want, we can keep to the theme without using up all your herbs. I can make a panna cotta with those samberries, and just use the neeldemak as an accent flavor.”  
   Slowly, Hunk began to brighten. Miela pulled him easily out of his melancholy with the pleasant banter of two chefs in a kitchen. For just a little while, Hunk could immerse himself in something he enjoyed, with someone who kept his mind off the serious matters around him. If this woman was dangerous, he never would have known it, the way she laughed and smiled and encouraged his creativity.  
   “Hey, Miela,” he said.  
   She looked up from the oven, noticing for the first time how he said her name with a slight accent. “Yes?”  
   “Do Italian chefs sing while they cook? You know, like in all those old cartoons.”  
   The woman smiled and wiped her hands on a towel. “It depends on where you go. There are places, but they’re mostly for tourists, not serious eaters.”  
   “Aww, that’s too bad.” He sighed. “Well, there went my childhood.”  
   She winked. “I did say ‘mostly’.” She changed her stance just slightly, and began singing. It was a familiar tune, but Hunk had never heard the words before.  
   “‘Love is a rebellious bird  
   That none can domesticate,  
   And it’s really in vain to call it  
   If it’s convenient for it to refuse.’”  
   She stopped and looked at Hunk, and her face went pink at his stare.  
   He leaned into the counter. “Don’t stop,” he encouraged. “That’s amazing! Keep going!”  
   Miela smiled shyly. “All right.”  
   “‘Nothing works, threats or prayers,  
   One speaks well, the other is silent,  
   And it’s the other I prefer,  
   He’s said nothing, but he pleases me.’” She closed her eyes, and suddenly Hunk realized that it wasn’t Miela singing anymore. It was someone else; someone younger, freer, less burdened by troubles.  
   “‘Love, love, love, love!  
   Love is a gypsy child  
   Who has never, never known of rules.  
   If you don’t love me, I love you,  
   If I love you, watch yourself!  
   If you don’t love me, I love you,  
   But if I love you, if I love you, watch yourself!’” She struck a defiant pose.  
   Hunk began applauding furiously. “Oh. My. Stars, that was so cool!”  
   Miela seemed to come back to her senses, her expression changing back to its subtle humility. She smiled and gave a little bow of gratitude. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m sure that was kind of loud.”  
   Hunk waved his hands at her. “No, nope, no. You don’t get to apologize for that. It was incredible, and my childhood is intact.”  
   Miela chuckled.  
   Lance poked his head through the door. “Hey, Hunk, did you hear that just now?”  
   Hunk looked at his friend. “Huh? Me? No. I was listening to Miela.”  
   The blue paladin narrowed his eyes. “Was she singing ‘Habañera’?” he asked. “‘Cause that’s what I was talking about.”  
   “Huh?”  
   The young woman glanced over at him. “Yes, I was.”  
   Lance’s eyes widened, and he stepped through the doorway. “Wow! You can hit all those notes?” He scoffed. “What am I saying? I just heard you do it!”  
   “I know!” said Hunk. “It’s awesome.” He gently rubbed his eyes. “I have an opera singer in my kitchen. I’m so proud right now.”  
   Miela gave them a sheepish smile. “It’s not my most difficult song, but it’s one of my favorites.”  
   “Were you a singer, back on Earth?” Hunk asked.  
   “Oh, no. I mean, I did it for a while, but I’m just a Jack-of-all-trades.”  
   “Yeah, that bit I noticed,” the big man said with a smile.  
   Lance put his hands in his pockets. “Just like Figaro!” he said. “He’s one of my favorite characters.”  
   Miela laughed at the comparison. “Yeah, I guess so!” The thought grew on her, and she laughed a little harder.  
   She could be happy here… if only it could last.


	12. “Funiculì Funiculà” - Luigi Senza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela is fitting in, but not everyone is ready to trust her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again. You know you've heard this song.

   Hunk cried at dinner, just like he’d predicted.   
   Miela was sensitive enough to pat him on the shoulder and try to soothe him, but he stunned her by wrapping both arms around her small figure and burying her face in his shoulder. The young woman struggled against him until she could breathe, and after that she seemed okay with him clinging to her while he wept.  
   Though they devoured everything on their plates, Lance and Keith seemed completely unaffected by the food’s emotional connection to home. What no one expected was for Pidge to start tearing up.  
   Shiro looked down the table at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.  
   She rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s really good.” She scooped another spoonful of panna cotta into her mouth.  
   “Yes,” Princess Allura agreed. “If this is any indicator, I think I’ll enjoy Earth food.”  
   Miela gave Hunk’s shoulder a final pat before he released her. “I’m glad you like it.” She looked at Hunk. “We both are.”  
   Hunk wiped his eyes. “I haven’t had that much fun since we went to the space-mall,” he said. “I could really get used to having her in the kitchen with me.”  
   Miela smiled, but looked at the floor.  
   Hunk caught the expression’s meaning. “I mean…” He cut himself off and looked first at Shiro, and then at Allura. He pouted and looked at the floor. “Aw, man. I totally brought the mood down, didn’t I?”  
   “It’s all right,” said Miela. “We all have our missions.” She smiled at him. “But we’ll cook together again, right? Tomorrow morning?”  
   Hunk’s eyes sparkled. “Could we? Please?”  
   There was a laugh in her voice. “Sure.”  
   Maybe it was then that Allura started having some slight reservations about Miela. She couldn’t put reason to those thoughts; not yet. After all, the woman was easy to get along with, and seemed to have no interest in upsetting their mission plans. Maybe it was her copacetic attitude. Was it that she was too accommodating? Too smart or talented? No, she didn’t think so. Maybe it was the fact that Miela complemented the other paladins, while she sat to the outside of their group. Was that it? Was she just jealous? After her heart-to-heart with Keith, she could accept that those feelings could be possible, but something nagged at her still.  
   The princess sighed and finished her last bite of panna cotta, and decided the answer would come to her at some inopportune time, just like it always did if she stopped pondering it long enough. And anyway, as long as Miela acted as Allura predicted, everything would be fine.  
   The princess dabbed her mouth with her napkin, and looked up as Coran bent to take her plate. “Thank you, Coran.”  
   “My pleasure, Princess.” He looked up at Miela and smiled brightly, the corners of his mustache perking in response. “I may prefer classic Altean cuisine, but…it was excellent. What do you call that sweet mushy stuff?”  
   “Panna cotta,” said Miela. “Almost every country has a different name for it, but that’s what my countrymen call it.”  
   Coran leaned conspiratorially across the table. “You might have to leave the recipe with us.”  
   Miela chuckled. “Certainly.”  
   Shiro stood up, and looked down the table at the other paladins. “All right, guys. We have a couple hours of free time, so spend it wisely. Don’t stay up too late.” He flicked his gaze at the two women at the far end of the table. “Allura? Why don’t we take our guest to the training room? I had an idea.”  
   Allura smirked. What was going on in his head? “All right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> panna cotta is a sweet desert akin to custard or flan. It can even be described as pudding.


	13. “An Die Freude,” Symphony No. 9 - Ludwig van Beethoven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Allura attempt to vet their guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "An die Freude" is "Ode to Joy." You've more than likely heard it already.
> 
> Warning: possible audio triggers: screaming, infant crying, gunshots.

   Coran, Allura, and Shiro guided Miela to the spacious training area.  
   The woman looked around and whistled at the size of the room. “Wow,” she breathed. She stopped and looked down as a gloved hand appeared in front of her. Shiro held out a light, hemispherical headset to her. She gently took it from him. “What is this thing?”  
   “You put it on your head,” he explained. “It’s used to synchronize thoughts with other people. We use them to practice staying in tune with one another.”  
   She raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, I can understand why the members of Voltron would need this, but why are you giving me one?” She looked at the thin piece of Altean tech in her hands. After a moment, a horrified look crossed her face, and she looked up at Shiro. “I… I can’t pilot a lion! I-I don’t want to replace anyone! I’m just…!”  
   Shiro held up his hands. “Relax,” he said with an easy smile. “We’re not trying to make you a paladin.” His smile faded a little. “To be completely honest, this is more about alleviating our suspicions of you. You’ve been almost completely altruistic with us, and we’re not used to receiving that kind of treatment without paying for it one way or another.”  
   She studied him for a moment before gently turning over the little piece of machinery. “I see. I completely understand where you’re coming from, but…” Miela looked dubious for a moment. “I’m… not so sure about this. What if I lose something important? A memory, or even my identity?” She looked up at him.  
   “That’s not possible,” Allura said gently. “We’re just trying to find out more about you.” She touched the headset. “All this does is show us a few slivers of who you are. It won’t take anything from you.”  
   Miela twisted her mouth to one side. “All right.” She put the headset on. “What do I do?”  
   Allura smirked. “Just sit down. There’s not much to it.”  
   Miela looked around briefly, and then knelt in the floor, with her legs folded underneath her, feet crossed at the instep.  
   “Good,” said Allura. She pointed up to the control room above them. “Coran and I will be observing from up there.” She looked at Shiro. “Would you mind staying down here, Shiro?”  
   “Of course not,” he replied.  
   When Allura and Coran had left the room, Shiro looked down at Miela.  
   She glanced up at him, but wouldn’t hold his gaze. “W-what is it?” she asked shyly.  
   Shiro smirked. “I know that position. That’s _seiza_ ,” he said. “Where did you train?”  
   Miela’s face went pink again. “Here and there,” she said. “Mostly under my father, though. He was a martial artist.”  
   “Really?” Shiro asked. He knelt in the seiza position beside her, but not without feeling his overworked joints crackle in protest. “What did you study?”  
   She smiled. “Whatever Daddy was interested in at the time. He got his belts really quickly, but I never seemed to level up.”  
   Allura’s voice came on over the speakers. “All right, Miela, we’re ready to begin.”  
   Miela looked up at the two figures in the control room. “What do you want me to do?”  
   “Close your eyes.”  
   Miela obeyed.  
   “Now, think of something that has made a significant impact on your life.”  
   A screen flickered into view in front of Miela, and Shiro made a noise of intrigue in his throat. It wasn’t a picture in her mind, like any of the other paladins. No, the only thing on her screen was a bunch of fluctuating squiggles.  
   “What is that?” Allura asked softly.  
   Shiro studied the screen a moment longer before answering. “Those are sound waves.”  
   “Ah!” Coran piped up. “If that’s the case, surely I can convert them!” He studied the console for a few ticks, and then pressed four buttons.  
   The noise that came through the speakers startled Shiro to his feet. Human screams filled the training room. He backed a couple steps away from the young woman and covered his ears. He knew this sound all too well; it was a baby crying. He had been trained to withstand that kind of psychological torment, but the sound was overlaid with Miela’s own voice, producing a terrible cacophony that filled his mind with the horrifying memories of his time in slavery to the Galra.  
   Miela was still for a few long seconds before a dimple appeared in her chin, and her eyebrows came together in a look of agony. Then the sounds softened, and something else faded in over the top. It was quiet at first, and then it grew louder, just loud enough to completely drown out the remainder of the crying.  
   Shiro lifted his hands off his ears and listened. It was a soft, swaying music in a melancholy key.  
   “‘Sweet and low, sweet and low,  
   Wind of the Western Sea,  
   Low, low, breathe and blow,  
   Wind of the Western Sea…’”  
   Allura looked puzzled. “What is going on?” she asked.  
   Shiro looked up at the window above them. “It looks like whenever something gets too traumatic to handle, she switches over to music.”  
   The princess smiled. “I suppose that makes sense. Take one noise, and relate it to another noise that the mind can better process.” She looked down at their test subject. “Miela, do you remember your family?”  
   The music played on, but the screen flickered to a family picture of two young girls and their parents.  
   Shiro bent in closer and studied the photograph. The father was brown-skinned and square, and then there was the mother, light-skinned and thin, with bird-like features. Not Miela. He looked down at the older child, who had long brown hair and braces, and smirked when he recognized a younger version of the woman sitting next to him. The other, smaller girl had blonde, wispy curls and chubby cheeks. “You have a sister,” he murmured over the music. “Did she come with you?”  
   Miela shook her head. “No.” The music swelled to a mournful high at her answer.  
   “‘Over the rolling waters go,  
   Come from the dying moon and blow,  
   Blow him again to me, while my little one,  
   While my pretty one sleeps.’”  
   Shiro looked up at the control room as he noticed the nature of the music she was playing. He glanced back at Miela. “How many songs do you know?” he asked.  
   She opened her eyes and stared up at him. “I have no idea. Hundreds. Thousands, maybe. Not all of them have words.”  
   Shiro smiled. “Think of something that made you happy,” he said.  
   The picture slowly shifted to something dark, with bright accent lights. A stage? The sad lullaby gave way to a vibrant, exuberant chorus, in a tune Shiro recognized easily from home, though the headpiece refused to translate it.  
   “‘Freude schöner Götterfunken  
   Tochter aus Elysium,  
   Wir betreten feuertrunken  
   Himmlischer, dein Heiligthum!’”  
   Shiro squinted at the screen. “Is that… wow. That’s Carnegie Hall…!” He jerked his head to look at Miela, but the music changed again, and he refocused on the screen. It was an older version of Miela in heavy stage makeup, wearing a long antique dress and hat.  
   “‘If you want your sister courted,  
   Brother wed, or cheese imported,  
   Just leave everything to me…’”  
   Shiro smiled. “You were a performer. You played in ‘Hello, Dolly’.”  
   Allura peered down at them from over the console. “What’s Carnegie Hall?”  
   He looked up at the princess. “It’s a really famous music venue back on Earth. They say you’ve made your way as a musician if you perform in Carnegie Hall.”  
   “And… what’s Heludali?”  
   He laughed out loud. “‘Hello, Dolly!’” he corrected. “It’s the name of a play that was set to music. The main character’s name is Dolly.”  
   “‘Hello, Dolly!  
   Well, hello, Dolly!  
   It’s so nice to have you  
   Back where you belong!’”  
   “This is amazing!” Allura said. “I’ve never seen anything like it! Is it all Earth music?”  
   Shiro chuckled at her. “As far as I know, it is.”  
   Allura hummed. “I wish I had more context for it. Listening to it now is… it’s all mixed up. All the styles are different.” She leaned into the console on her elbows and put her chin in her hand. “And the one before was in a different language. Is that regional?”  
   “Yeah. It’s German, I think. Which is pretty impressive, considering she's Italian.”  
   “Fascinating! So, can you understand it?”  
   “Not really. I have friends who can.” He looked down at Miela. “How about… something that made you proud?”  
   A faint smile crossed her lips, and the screen changed. Bright daylight, with sunlight streaming through a green canopy, with two hands stretched out to clasp something obscured by the glare. The music ended in an abrupt bang.  
   Shiro’s smile broke as he recognized the sound of a gunshot.  
   “Okay, you’ve got five more shots,” said a slightly higher-pitched woman’s voice. Four more shots rang out in the room. “Wow! All right! You’ve got one more.”  
   “The sun’s in my eyes,” Miela’s voice mumbled. “I can’t see the target.”  
   “If you want to move, you can.”  
   “Nah. I’ll see what I can do from here.”  
   “You sure? You’re about twenty feet back, and those shells make really small targets.”  
   “I’ve got this.”  
   There was a pause, and then another explosion.  
   “Did I hit it?”  
   The other woman laughed under her breath. “Yeah, you hit it.” Miela’s voice let out a victorious whoop, and the other woman laughed. “Remind me never to get on your bad side!”  
   That’s when the picture on the screen became clearer. Miela’s two hands were cupping an empty red shotgun shell with a bullet-sized hole through the side.  
   Shiro smirked. “Looks like our sharpshooter has some competition.” But as he leaned in to study the screen, he noticed that, somewhere far in the background, he could still hear the sound of a baby crying. His smile faded. Was Miela really such a tortured soul? He finally stood up straight, smiled that sad smile, and looked up at Allura. “Okay. I’m satisfied.”  
   Miela looked up at him, and the screen in front of her went back to its pulsing sound waves. “You are?”  
   “Yep. You’re not dangerous.”  
   Allura harrumphed. “Well, I’m not satisfied.” She smiled broadly. “I want to know _everything_ ,” she said.  
   Shiro laughed at her. “I’m sure you can do that without technology.” He listened to the music for a moment, and realized it had changed again. It was dissonant string instruments, whirring and spinning like the gears inside a madman’s head. He frowned a little at the noise. “I think she’s getting tired,” he said as a man’s gruff voice hissed over the speakers.  
   “‘There’s a hole in the world  
   Like a great black pit,  
   And it’s filled with people  
   Who are filled with’-”  
   Miela quickly plucked the device off her head, and the music cut out mid-sentence. “You’re right,” she said hastily. She gave him a self-conscious smile. “I am getting tired.” She stood up and handed the device to Shiro. “Please excuse me.” And with that, she made her way out of the room.  
   Shiro watched her go. She was careful not to walk too fast, and she smiled over her shoulder at him before the doors closed, but she was hiding something, and he’d caught onto it now. The worst part was that he didn’t think it wasn’t dangerous; just kind of sad.  
   “Shiro,” said Allura, “what was that?”  
   The black paladin looked at the doors. “I think… that was her inner demon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music listed here:
> 
> "Wind of the Western Sea" by Graham Peel  
> "An die Freude" by Beethoven  
> "Just Leave Everything to Me" from "Hello, Dolly!" by Jerry Herman  
> "Hello, Dolly!" by Jerry Herman  
> "Epiphany" from "Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street" by Stephen Sondheim


	14. “To Whom it May Concern” - The Civil Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela and Lance have a bonding moment. Fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have to admit to this being a songfic chapter. :P

   She wasn’t lying when she had said she was tired. Her back and lower abdomen ached from carrying Keith earlier that day, and she felt high-strung and emotionally winded. But for some reason, there were two things she couldn’t figure out how to do. First, she couldn’t figure out how to let her emotions go. Usually, she could do that by making herself cry; she’d done that enough times to know it worked. But that night, she felt closed-up inside, as if her mind just wasn’t sure what to feel deep down just yet. The second thing was how to sleep. Her body was twitchy and restless, along with being sore (What the quiznak kind of combination was that?), and no matter which way she tossed or turned, the bed she lay in refused to become comfortable.  
   Miela sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. The nightgown Coran had left in her closet was light and silky, and billowed to the floor in the wake of her legs. Fit for a princess, she thought again, not a waif like herself.  
   She got to her feet, but the ache in her abdomen wouldn’t let her stand upright for a moment. She sat back down and tried to calm the soreness under the pressure of one hand. That’s what you get for carrying something that weighs more than you do, said the voice in her head. Was it getting worse? She couldn’t tell.  
   When the pain finally abated, Miela put on her robe from earlier and left the room, padding barefoot down the corridor in the hopes that she might come across the kitchen again. With any luck, she could get something to eat that would lull, or at least dull her senses. She smirked. Hunk would know what to do, if he were awake. What time was it, anyway?  
   It wasn’t long before she realized she had gone the wrong way. Without one of the other paladins to guide her, she had become hopelessly lost. It was sheer luck that, after a few more steps, she began to hear faint music. As she followed it, she began making out a light little tune, using what sounded like a steel guitar. The closer she got to the sound, the more familiar she became with the area; she was almost on the bridge of the ship.  
   The door was open, and cool light streamed out, into the hallway. The strumming continued, a sweet little waltz with a bit of a twang.  
   “‘Why are you so far from me?’” sang a soft tenor voice. Lance was sitting on the bridge’s raised ledge, staring up at a holographic image of the earth. He was wearing a headpiece similar to the one Miela had worn earlier, and the music in his head bobbed rhythmically across the sound system.  
   “‘In my arms is where you ought to be.’” His voice didn’t have the power Miela’s had, but he could carry a tune. The perfect tune for what he was doing, the young woman thought.  
   Miela smiled and took a step into the room and began singing along. “‘How long’-”  
   Lance jumped at the sound of her voice and spun around so fast he fell off the ledge with a cry. The music stopped. “Who’s there?” he yelped from the floor.  
   Miela gasped and hurried farther onto the deck. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!”  
   Lance stared at her in terror for a moment before he coughed and righted himself. “Y-you didn’t scare me…” No, she wouldn’t believe that. “Not… that much.”  
   “I’m sorry.” She clutched at the long, flowing skirts. “This thing makes me look like a ghost.”  
   She didn’t know how true or how apt that was, Lance thought. But as he considered the thought, her pale skin and the faint freckles that appeared across her nose in the blue light of Earth, he felt his cheeks begin to burn.  
   He coughed and looked away. “What are you doing up?” He finally recovered the indignation to look her in the eye again. “You should be resting.”  
   “I couldn’t sleep.” She smiled at him. “Looks like great minds think alike.”  
   Lance smirked. “I like that idea.” He adjusted the headset so that it fit correctly on his head. The music began playing again, still the same song, lilting along in three-quarter time. “Were you listening to me singing?” he asked.  
   “Yeah. I know that song.”  
   He turned and looked at her. “You do?” He smiled at her. “That’s so awesome! Everybody used to look at me funny when I said I listened to the Civil Wars.”  
   She chuckled. “Well, they are kind of archaic.”  
   Lance gave her a knowing smile. “Says the chick who specializes in opera.”  
   Miela shook her head. “I don’t specialize. Not really. I just love music.” She came around the side of the console and padded up beside him, and sat down next to where Lance had just been sitting. “So, please. Keep singing.”  
   The brown-skinned boy shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Aw, now you’re gonna embarrass me.”  
   “I won’t. Keep singing.”  
   Lance looked at her for a moment longer, then sighed and sat down next to her. “You want one?” he asked, and held up one of the thin Altean headsets.  
   Miela glanced at the thing, hummed, and took it from him. “‘ _Sto cazzo_. Sure.”  
   Lance gave her a mortified look. “Okay, I know from hearing it that it didn’t translate, but… wow.”  
   She put the headset on. “I know a few things that those mods won’t translate.” She gave him a sly grin that made his throat tighten.  
   Lance returned the look. “You dirty girl.”  
   Miela laughed and looked up at the hologram of the Earth. “I get why you chose that song,” she said.  
   “You do?”  
   “Sure. We’re a long way from the things that comfort us.” She swayed a little to the strumming sounds that gently wafted through the room.  
   “‘How long will you make me wait?  
   I don’t know how much more I can take.’”  
   Oh sweet merciful gods, she was perfect. She sounded just right, and in spite of her training, she never once overpowered the music. Lance joined her in a soft harmony. “‘I missed you,  
   But I haven’t met you.  
   Oh, but I want to,  
   How I do.’”  
   At the risk of seeming too familiar, Lance let his fingers slowly inch across the space between them.  
   “‘I’m slowly counting down the days  
   ’Til I finally know your name.’”  
   There was a barrier there, between them. Lance hesitated at touching her hand. Was that _trepidation_ he was suddenly feeling? He reflected, suddenly, that he had done the same thing when he and Shiro had first been introduced. Back then, it was the alien arm that had made him pause. What was he suddenly so afraid of now?  
   Miela glanced knowingly at him, and deliberately set her hand on top of his. “‘The way your hand feels ‘round my waist,  
   The way you laugh, the way your kisses taste…’”  
   It wasn’t the touch Lance had expected. It wasn’t delicate or questioning, explorative or unsure, like the girls he’d flirted with before. No, this woman was sure of what she wanted. The weight of her hand on top of his was reassuring, but… that was all. There was nothing to mistake about it.  
   Miela knew what she wanted. It just wasn’t him.  
   “‘I missed you,  
   But I haven’t met you.  
   Oh, but I want to,  
   How I do. How I do.’”  
   Lance sighed, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “‘Dear whoever you may be…’” he crooned.  
   Miela patted his hand. “‘I’m still waiting patiently.’” She looked at her knees, her left hand resting in her lap, and analyzed her current position. What was he doing? Was he going to make a move already? Before she could come to any conclusions, Lance spoke up.  
   “Can we sit like this a little longer?” he asked. “I know… I know you’re not the right one. But… you feel so much like home. Can we just sit like this a little longer?”  
   She smiled up at him, and then gently leaned her head against his shoulder. “Sure.” After another few ticks, she sighed. “I hope you find someone who feels like home.”  
   “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More unnecessary proof that Lance is a rube. At least he's a sweet rube. Pic here!
> 
>   
> [To Whom it May Concern](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/To-Whom-it-May-Concern-672756161) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	15. “Lullaby,” from “The Consul” - Giancarlo Menotti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela and Hunk take over the kitchen

   She slept after that. Something about the comfortable silence in which she and Lance had sat had finally made her tired. She probably could have fallen asleep on his shoulder, if she had let herself. But she wasn’t a child, she rationalized with a sigh. She finally bade Lance goodnight, and found her way back to her room. It took her a few minutes to realize the floor was more comfortable than her cot, so she curled up against the wall, and soon, she was asleep.  
   She awoke to knocking. As she stirred, the lights in the room gently brightened, like the sunrises she had been known to miss at home.  
   “Yes?” she said drowsily.  
   More knocking. Whoever was on the other side obviously hadn’t heard her.  
   Miela rubbed her eyes and got to her feet. “I’m coming,” she yawned.  
   Pidge and Hunk were standing there in front of her door. Hunk yelped when he saw her, and that made certain she was awake.  
   “What’s going on, guys?” Miela asked.  
   Pidge raised her hand in greeting. “Good morning! Hunk said you were going to help him make breakfast.”  
   “I-I didn’t know you’d still be asleep, though,” Hunk said sheepishly. He pressed the tips of his fingers together shyly. “I just got hungry.”  
   Miela looked at him, and then at Pidge. “Was I really up that late?” she mumbled. Then she shook her head. “Never mind. Give me five doboshes to get dressed, and then we’ll head to the kitchen.”  
   “You sure?” Hunk asked.  
   “I’m sure.”  
   They were still there when she came back out of the room in her black body suit. “Are you sure this is okay?” Hunk asked. “I really didn’t mean to wake you up!”  
   She smiled up at him. “If everyone else is already awake, then I should probably be up too.”  
   Pidge folded her arms. “Everyone except Lance.”  
   Miela glanced at her. “Oh? Is that common?”  
   “Yeah, pretty much.”  
   Miela smiled. “That makes me feel a little better, then.”  
   The younger girl hummed. “Trust me, we all look pretty sloppy when Shiro and Allura are around.” She cut her eyes away. “Lance is just a little more laid back than the rest of us.”  
   The woman snickered. “I got that vibe from him as well. But I’ll try to shape up a little, and pull my weight while I’m here.”  
   “Honestly, I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Hunk. “You’re a guest. The fact that you’ve helped out this much is…”  
   “Hunk!” Pidge snapped.  
   “Surprising! I was going to say surprising!”  
   Pidge growled under her breath and looked up at Miela. “Seriously, though. If you want to take it a little easy while you’re here, no one would blame you.”  
   Miela looked at her feet, Pidge’s and Hunk’s legs shifting in and out of her line of sight as they walked. “I might blame myself. I appreciate the offer, but I need to stay busy. Idle hands are the devil’s plaything.”  
   Hunk cupped both hands casually behind his head. “I guess that explains your cooking skills.”  
   She chuckled at him. “I’m sure it explains many things.”  
   “What else do you do?” Pidge asked. “Hunk says you’re a great singer.”  
   “I’m all right.”  
   Hunk narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t get me started, Miela.”  
   “ _Dio_ , you don’t pull punches, do you?” she said with a sheepish laugh. “You’re starting to treat me like family already!” She looked back at Pidge. “To be fair, I have had some training. I have a pretty wide range, and I can read music.”  
   “Do you play an instrument?” Pidge asked.  
   “Piano, mostly. I can play a few guitar chords, but my fingers aren’t really cut out for it.” She looked up at Hunk. “Did… did Shiro tell you anything about our session in the training room yesterday?”  
   “Oh, so that’s where you ran off to!” Hunk said. “No, he really hasn’t said anything, yet. Why?”  
   Miela shook her head. “I figured he would have told you whatever it was he found out.”  
   “‘Whatever it was’?” Pidge repeated. “You mean you don’t know?”  
   “No.”  
   Hunk stopped and leaned close in excitement. “Did you spar with him? Oh my gosh, that’d be so _cool_!”  
   Miela waved him backward a bit. “No, no, nothing like that. He and Allura just had me put on that little… head-thing.”  
   Pidge groaned. “Aw, man. I hated that thing.”  
   The young woman shrugged. “He seemed satisfied by whatever he saw, so I guess it worked out.”  
   Hunk harrumphed and stood to his full height again. “Well, if you have a match with Shiro, I’d better be there to witness it.”  
   “Him or Allura!” Pidge interjected.  
   Miela sighed. “I take it they’re the most athletic?” she asked.  
   Pidge touched her chin in thought. “Yeah, I guess so. Keith’s a close third.”  
   The woman chuckled. “So you’re imagining pitting me against the toughest members of Voltron already? What did I do to earn that punishment?”  
   “You said yester-quintant that you took out three guys with your bare hands!” Hunk said.  
   She raised a finger to stop him. “Took _down_ , not ‘took out’. I did not kill them.”  
   “Even better!” Pidge cut in. “That’s tremendous! You have the restraint to respect an opponent! Keith even said you _carried_ him to safety. That must mean you’re pretty strong.”  
   Miela smirked at her. “Maybe. But he’s not that heavy.”  
   Pidge crossed her arms. “I’ll accept that response for now, but seriously! You have _got_ to learn to accept praise, Miela.”  
   Miela let out a laugh. “I’ll try. Just don’t set me up against Shiro and Allura just yet.”  
   “Fine,” Hunk agreed.  
   They turned the corner into the kitchen, where Allura was already standing with a bowl of green food goo. Lance was slumped, exhausted, over one of the islands.  
   “Oh, good!” Pidge piped up. “You’re awake!”  
   Lance rubbed his face and peered up at her. “Not for lack of trying. Mullet over there broke into my room and stole my sleep mask.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Keith, who looked perfectly awake.  
   The red paladin lowered one eyebrow at him. “You were seriously going to pass up a gourmet breakfast, cooked by hand by a beautiful woman?”  
   Miela touched her hand to her mouth at the compliment, her face going pink.  
   Lance lifted his head off the counter. “Dude, I get what you’re saying. Trust me, I’m awake. All I meant is that I’m sure Miela would have saved me some food.” He cut his eyes up at her and winked. “Wouldn’t you, Miela?”  
   The woman finally revealed her embarrassed smile from behind her hand. “You guys are going to kill me with all the compliments.” Hunk handed her an apron, which she took and slid on over her black suit. “Any requests or restrictions?”  
   Keith glanced up at her. “No dairy for me, please.”  
   “Pidge? How about you?”  
   The girl tapped her chin again in thought. “Something provincial.” She smiled. “Something that reminds you of home.”  
   “Lance?”  
   He hummed sleepily. “Dealer’s choice.”  
   “Allura?”  
   The princess smiled at her. “I’m actually with Lance on this one,” she said. “I’m interested to see what you come up with.”  
   Miela looked at the occupants of the room. “Where’s Shiro?”  
   “Waiting to come into the kitchen,” his voice said from behind her.  
   “Oh!” Miela moved out of the doorway to let him pass. “I’m sorry! You were so quiet!”  
   Pidge folded her arms. “That’s unusual.” Shiro shot her a dry look, but it had no effect. “Miela’s taking everyone’s breakfast orders. What do you want?”  
   He laughed under his breath. “If you have something like coffee, I’d be truly amazed.”  
   The young woman lowered her chin at him and gave him a smirk that, for some reason, made Shiro’s face heat up. “Challenge accepted,” she murmured. Then she looked up at Hunk. “Then I have a good idea of what to do for breakfast.” She gestured at him to come close, and she whispered something in his ear.  
   Hunk’s eyes lit up. “That sounds perfect!” Then he turned into the kitchen and set to work.


	16. “Java Jive” -  The Ink Spots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela shows her slightly awkward side.

   What they came up with was stunningly simple. Several slender cuts of pale green, translucent melon, over which she had layered a few paper-thin slices of salt-cured meat, and topped with an earthy-smelling oil and red, peppery drusich flowers.  
   “Here we are,” she said, as she and Hunk served each of their friends. “ _Buon appetito_.”  
   Pidge scratched her head. “This is what you eat on Earth?” she asked.  
   Miela chuckled. “It’s as close as I could get. Prosciutto and melon is pretty standard fare, where I’m from.”  
   Allura bent over the plate in her hands to sniff the food. “It smells good, in a strange sort of way.”  
   Hunk was pulling a batch of browned nuts out of the oven. “You must be from northern Italy,” he said. He stood to his full height and placed the hot pan on the counter.  
   Miela nodded. “I’m from a village near Venice.”  
   Lance twirled his fork in the air. “Ah, the city of love,” he sighed.  
   The woman looked at him. “That’s Paris, not Venice.”  
   He stared at her for a moment. “Really?”  
   “Yeah. We call Venice ‘The Bride of the Sea’.” She quickly scooped two heaping handfuls of the hot nuts into a small bowl, and then poured them into a food processor.  
   Shiro smiled. “That’s kind of romantic, too.”  
   Pidge gave Lance a wry grin. “Lucky break, Lance! Now you have _two_ cities of love!”  
   Lance’s retort was drowned out by the sound of the blender grinding away at the toasted nuts.  
   Miela turned it back off after about fifteen seconds. “Do we have parchment?” she asked Hunk.  
   He held up a thin, white sheet of paper. “Right here.” He folded and twisted it into a cone-shape, and set the finished product in the mouth of a pitcher. “This is so cool. I can’t even believe I never thought of this!”  
   “What are you doing?” Keith asked.  
   Hunk looked up at him. “Seriously? You don’t know what making coffee looks like?” He gently held the parchment in place while Miela dropped a few scoops of brown grounds into the cone.  
   “Coffee?” Allura asked.  
   Keith frowned. “Well, I’ve never seen it made _this_ way.”  
   Hunk frowned back. “You mean, ‘the right way’.” He released the paper and picked up a kettle of hot water from the stove. “Go ahead and eat,” he told Miela. “I’ll join you guys in a tick.”  
   The group migrated into the dining room and sat down to eat.  
   At Allura’s request, Miela explained the choice she had made for their morning repast. “The essential principle of fine cooking is to use combinations that accentuate flavors, rather than trying to drown them out. That being said, flavor _levels_ are pretty important; if you have more salt, you need less sweet, and so on.” She folded her arms on the table. “It’s my somewhat biased opinion that prosciutto and melon is the perfect combination of both.”  
   Pidge cut another bite with her spork. “It’s so _delicate_!” she exclaimed softly. “How did you come up with it?”  
   “Oh, I didn’t,” said Miela. “I grew up eating food like this.” She speared a cube of melon and set it delicately in her mouth, but then grimaced.  
   “Is something wrong?” Allura asked.  
   Miela smiled down the table at the princess. “I scalded myself on that hot pan a moment ago. My hands are a little sensitive.” She set down her utensil and showed Allura a red patch of skin on of her hand. “It’ll be all right. I just need to build up my tolerance again.” She flexed her fingers once, and picked up her spork to continue eating.  
   “You need to be careful about that,” Hunk said from over her shoulder. Miela looked up at him. “As my sous-chef, you need to take care of your hands,” he scolded.  
   Miela hid a giggle behind her hand. “I thought that only applied to my _palate_ ,” she joked.  
   “Well, that too,” Hunk amended. “Anyway, you’d better try the coffee. See if it meets Italian standards.”  
   “Me?” She asked. “You’re the gourmet!”  
   “Yeah, but I generally don’t like coffee.”  
   She pouted at him. “All right.” Miela excused herself from the table and followed Hunk back into the kitchen. On the counter, he had placed a tiny plate with two slices of yellow fruit, and a steaming cup of caramel-colored liquid. “It smells great,” she noted. She picked up a slice of fruit and took a bite to cleanse her palate, and then lifted the cup to her mouth. She tasted a sip, and then looked up at Hunk. “I don’t know about the Italian standard, but I like it.”  
   Hunk clapped his hands approvingly. “Excellent. Let’s serve it, then, before it gets cold.”  
   “Did you get a chance to eat?” Miela asked.  
   “Oh, sure.”  
   She smiled. “All right.”  
   Miela helped him carry the cups and saucers into the dining room, where she began serving the coffee to them in order of rank.  
   “You were trained in etiquette?” Shiro asked as Miela and Hunk slowly rounded the table.  
   Miela glanced at him. “Yes. I went to a modeling school in my hometown. That was part of the curriculum.” She stood upright. “Please let me know what you think.”  
   “Yeah,” said Hunk. “This is my first attempt making this, and it’s, like, the only thing I’ve ever cooked that I haven’t tasted.”  
   Allura lowered her eyebrows at him. “You don’t drink this… coffee?” she asked.  
   “I never acquired the taste,” he said with a shrug. “Some people don’t.”  
   Shiro said nothing, but his expression belied his surprise that Hunk wasn’t willing to put something in his mouth, for once. He cautiously lifted the cup and touched his nose to the rim. It smelled good; nutty and toasted, like coffee was supposed to smell. The scent brought a wistful smile to his face, and he took a sip. A look of shock crossed his face, and he looked up at Hunk. “Hunk, how much did those ingredients cost?” he asked.  
   “I dunno.” He looked at Allura. “How much do renner nuts cost?” he asked.  
   “Not much. A few hundred GAC, I suppose.” She glanced at Shiro. “Why? What’s wrong?”  
   Shiro’s expression relaxed a little, and he smirked down into the cup. “It tastes like Kopi Luwak.”  
   Miela inhaled sharply and covered her mouth and nose with both hands.  
   “WHAT?” That exclamation came out of Pidge, who shot up from her seat.  
   Hunk turned and dashed back to the kitchen to pour himself a cup.  
   “What?” Keith asked. “What’s Kopi Luwak?”  
   Pidge turned and yelled down the table at him. “It’s the most expensive coffee on Earth, that’s what!” She suddenly realized she was yelling, and quickly sat down with the coffee cup in her hands. Finally, she looked up at Miela. “How did you do that?” she asked.  
   Miela looked like she was about to cry from all the attention. “I… I didn’t know,” she said, her face burning pink. “I’ve never tried Kopi Luwak. I just like coffee.”  
   “It’s really good,” Shiro said, breaking the spell. “Another successful meal under your belt.”  
   “Yes,” Allura agreed. “It was enjoyable.” The princess wasn’t lying, but there was something troubled in her face that Miela couldn’t quite make out. And the spell was cast again.  
   The woman in black nodded to them. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” When she raised her head again, the discomfort in her face was undeniable. “Let me know if you need my help planning the mission. Until then, I hope you’ll excuse me.”  
   Lance watched her leave, and then looked around the table. “All right, what the cheese was that about?”


	17. “Who Knows” - Natasha Bedingfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Allura have a serious talk

   Allura approached Shiro after breakfast. “May I speak with you?” she asked.  
   “Of course.” He turned and looked at the other four paladins. “Go ahead to the bridge, guys. We’ll meet you there.” When he was sure they were gone, he turned and looked at Allura, the smile fading on his lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You never call me aside.”  
   The princess folded her arms. “You noticed it too, didn’t you?”  
   “Noticed what?” he asked.  
   “Don’t play dumb,” she rebuked. “About our guest.”  
   He raised his eyebrows at her tone. “I wasn’t playing dumb, Allura. I happened to notice a few things about her. To which are you referring?”  
   Her expression relaxed apologetically, and she scratched her jaw thoughtfully. “I can’t put my finger on it, really, but she seems very… nice.”  
   “Is that all?”  
   Allura gave a defeated huff. “No, but I can’t… Ugh!”  
   “Put words to it?” Shiro asked.  
   She looked up at him. “Y-yes.”  
   He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know what you mean. Part of the problem is that she really is likable. She’s, smart, beautiful, and almost overwhelmingly talented.” The smile faded again. “If she really wanted to, she could take us apart, piece by piece. If she wanted to, she could completely destroy us. But…”  
   “But what?” she interrupted. “That’s enough to worry anyone.”  
   Shiro sighed. “If what Keith said has any merit, and I believe it does, then she doesn’t intend to stay very long. She didn’t want to come here in the first place, and the only thing she seems insistent upon is going back to Aepsis with us.” Shiro’s tone indicated his bafflement, but he went on without explaining. “More importantly, I see something in her that reminds me of someone who has been abused in the past, if not tortured.” He glanced over his shoulder to see if the rest of his crew were eavesdropping, but decided they were not. He looked back at Allura, and began counting her behavioral indicators on his fingers. “She’s always trying to stay out of our way, she downplays her merits and accomplishments… And you saw her at breakfast; she gets uncomfortable when being praised.”  
   Allura’s eyebrows bent together. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for the woman, but Shiro had a valid point. She looked at the floor. “I understand.”  
   “Would you like me to ask her?” Shiro asked. “She’s been pretty forthcoming so far.”  
   Allura shook her head. “No,” she said. “If you’re right, then pushing her for an answer might alienate her. That only works against us.” She sighed. “Give her time to come clean on her own. Or perhaps there will be a situation in the near future that exposes her true intent.”  
   “Maybe that will clear a few things up,” Shiro said hopefully.  
   “Maybe.” She tried to walk past him, but he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.  
   “Until then,” he said, a little more softly, “it might be in our best interests to make her feel at home. That might enable her to be more open with us.” His face drew into a look of concern. “You might not have noticed, but she seems to be trying really hard to impress us.”  
   Allura looked at her boots again. “You’re right. I may have acted a little suspiciously at breakfast.” She sighed. “After last night’s planning session, I couldn’t help but see her as…” She stopped.  
   “As what?” Shiro asked.  
   “Nothing.” She waved off the thought. “It’s nothing.”  
   Shiro lowered his eyebrows. “As a rival?” he asked.  
   “Y-yes!” Allura crossed her arms again. “I hate when you finish my thoughts like that.”  
   “There are consequences for being one of your paladins,” he said, allowing himself a little smile to lighten the mood. “But, if it’s any consolation, she was pretty adamant about not wanting to usurp anybody’s position. She all but panicked when we told her what that headgear was for.”  
   “For some reason, that makes me more wary of her,” said the princess. “She’s an unpredictable element. She could do anything; be anything _to_ any one of us, or to _all_ of us.”  
   Shiro nodded. “That’s what we call a ‘wild card’.”  
   Allura nodded at the reference. “I see why that makes sense. But if we are to trust her, we need to know what’s driving her.”  
   “I agree,” said Shiro. “And we’ll find out, if we’re patient.”


	18. “Draw Me a Map” - Dierks Bentley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela shows a more troubling side

   Pidge had already pulled up the map of Aepsis by the time Shiro and Allura appeared on deck, and Miela was making slight corrections in the terrain surrounding the monastery. What surprised Shiro, though, was that her eyes were closed. She would zoom in on a particular tunnel, press both hands against the console, and then make minute movements with her fingers until the image was how she wanted it.  
   The green paladin turned and looked at her commanding officer. “Did you know she could do this?” she asked.  
   “Do what?” Shiro asked.  
   Pidge indicated the warping Miela was creating on the map. “She’s manipulating the map by _touch_! I mean, she’s programming it without actually typing in code. I thought only Allura could do that!”  
   Miela opened her eyes and glanced briefly over her shoulder at him before focusing her attention on Pidge. “Pidge, _I_ didn’t know I could do this. Please don’t…”  
   “It’s all right,” Allura interrupted. She looked up at the map. “What are you doing to the map?” she asked.  
   Miela looked back down at the console. “Mostly just adjusting the tunnel widths, but I’ve altered a few of them to more accurately depict navigability.” She looked at Allura. “I wanted a second chance at arguing my case, and I think I might be able to win you over.”  
   Allura sighed and approached the main column. “I can’t guarantee we’ll agree, but go ahead.”  
   Miela nodded and looked up at the map. “I may not know the ratio of slaves to slavers, but I know the caverns; I can navigate all of them in complete darkness. You’ll need that.”  
   Allura frowned. “Once we deploy the BLIP tech, that won’t matter.”  
   “Once you deploy it,” Miela said. “How many did you set on Balmera?”  
   “Several dozen, I imagine.”  
   The woman in black shook her head. “You wouldn’t be able to get away with that many, here.”  
   The princess folded her arms. “Obviously. It’s a much smaller area.”  
   “Not only that, but you’re not dealing with Galra ‘bots here,” Pidge cut in. “The drones are great when it comes to standard security, but real people are definitely more attentive. If they noticed even one BLIP Tech unit, we’d be burned.”  
   “What about those ‘Rover’ drones?” Lance asked. “Those are easy to reprogram, and they look like Galra tech.”  
   Pidge glanced across the main deck at him. “As far as I could tell, their operation isn’t strictly part of the Galra Empire,” she said. “The slavers’ races vary. If we used Galra drones, they might get suspicious.”  
   Miela glanced over at Allura. “If Pidge is right, they might be a business connection or an ally, though.” She smirked. “If you wanted to take a more covert route, we could pose as buyers, and go from there.”  
   Pidge glanced up at her. “That might be a good idea, if they were expecting us. As it is, they’re not expecting any sales for a little while. We would have to set up an appointment somehow, which I _could_ do, but we can’t guarantee it would be before the sales to the Fighter’s Guild or the Arena.” A look of sadness crossed her face. “We might miss the chance to free a greater number of the slaves.”  
   Miela gave an understanding nod.  
   Pidge refocused on the map. “Anyway, the incoming shipment happens in three more quintants. If we can catch the transport ship as it arrives, we might be able to locate and shut down their entire operation.” She glanced up at Miela. “That is,” she amended, “if we have a way to differentiate the slaves from the slavers.”  
   The young woman smiled. “If one or two of us could return to the caverns, we might be able to mark certain individuals by hand using holo-scanners.”  
   Shiro folded his arms. “This sounds an awful lot like counter-terrorism. And if that’s what it is, then you’re talking about some pretty high-level stuff. Are you sure you really want to do this?”  
   Allura spun to look at him. “Shiro?” she asked. But she couldn’t ask the question that followed, not without questioning his authority over the other paladins. Was he really going to allow her to go back down there, when she could potentially compromise the mission _and_ their lives?  
   Miela looked at him. This time, there was no hesitancy in her gaze; none of the awkward shyness he had seen before. Just piercing determination. “Please don’t ask me again.” The words were even, and not loud, but there was a definite threat behind them.  
   The rest of the crew looked momentarily stunned. Holy crow. Where did that sweet, bashful girl go, all of a sudden? And who were they looking at now?  
   Shiro broke the silence. “Why?”  
   “Why doesn’t matter,” she said. “You will be returning to Aepsis for your mission anyway. I wish to accompany you.”  
   Shiro shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”  
   Miela stood her ground. “Let me be absolutely clear,” she said curtly. “As much as I have enjoyed my time with you on this ship, it was never my intention to come aboard. Now that I am here, it is my _sole_ intention to return to Aepsis. If you will not help me, I _will_ find my own way back.”  
   That was when Shiro realized who he was looking at. She was older, taller, and more commanding- even _intimidating_ might have fit her- but he knew exactly who Miela reminded him of.  
   Katie Holt.  
   He looked over at the girl, but she seemed just as surprised as he was. She glanced over at him. “I-I-I didn’t know…!” she insisted. “I was just trying to help.”  
   “I know, Pidge,” he said softly. He gave Miela a serious look. “You’ve made your argument,” he said. “I’d like some time to discuss it with my team. We’ll let you know what we decide.”  
   “As you wish.” She turned and gave a respectful nod to Allura, and then walked out.


	19. “Shiver” - Coldplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The debate is on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter today, y'all. I've got a podcast to complete.

   “Holy crow!” Lance exclaimed once Miela was gone. “She’s scary when she’s mad!”  
   Hunk hugged himself and rubbed his arms. “Yeah, I know! I got chills!”  
   Shiro looked around at the other paladins. “I don’t know if it was just me, but does anyone else get the feeling that she’s holding something back?” He looked at his feet. “Not just hiding something, but keeping information from us that would actively sway us toward helping her?”  
   Pidge’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yeah, I did kind of feel that,” she said. “Like she wants our help, but won’t use her most compelling argument.”  
   “I don’t get it,” said Hunk. “She was so open with us. What happened? Is she ashamed of something? Or maybe she’s trying to protect something? Or maybe she’s just trying to fight fair?”  
   Shiro turned and looked at the one silent party in the room. “Keith?” he asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What do you think?”  
   Keith stared up at the map a moment longer before letting out a sigh. “She’s probably mad at me.”  
   “Why would she be mad at you?” Shiro asked.  
   “She- didn’t- want- to- come,” Keith reiterated, emphasizing each word in his frustration. “The only reason I was able to convince her to come with me is because I promised we could help her.” He showed both his hands to the rest of the room. “Now, that was a promise I _clearly_ couldn’t keep, and it’s perfectly reasonable for her to be upset!”  
   “Now, that’s not fair!” Allura chided. “We are trying to help her. We are going to go back to rescue those people, like she’s been trying to do. We’re probably even going to follow her plans.”  
   “So we’re just going to cut her out of something she helped plan?” Keith asked. “She’s probably had this insurgency planned for _years_.”  
   The room was quiet for a moment.  
   “Years?” Shiro repeated softly.  
   “Yes, years.” Keith slowly stood up. “When she saved me down there, she knew the flora, fauna, and terrain. Now, unless you’re a genius like Pidge, that kind of familiarity doesn’t happen until you’ve been there for a really long time.” He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Now, since you asked me, this is what I think. She knows what she’s doing, and she has proven to be an asset. Sidelining her and telling her it’s for her own good is insulting at best.”  
   Allura leaned toward him with a counter-argument. “Like I said before, we have to try to keep collateral damage to a min-”  
   Keith cut her off. “That’s _crap_!” he snapped.   
   “Keith!” Shiro tried to rein him in, but the red paladin went on anyway.  
   “Miela is just as invested in those people’s welfare as we are. If you think she would do _anything_ to endanger them, you’re fooling yourself.”  
   “We don’t know what her mission is,” Allura said. “We don’t even know what she’s capable of!”  
   “We haven’t even bothered _asking_ her what she’s capable of,” Keith answered. “She could be an even bigger asset than I’ve given her credit for.”  
   “Even so,” said Allura, “bringing a wild card like her on a mission with an established team like ours could blow up in our faces.”  
   “It could,” Shiro agreed. “It would be irresponsible to bring her with us. She should stay here, for everyone’s sake.”  
   “It would be irresponsible not to use every ‘card’ in our hand,” Keith countered. “We need her, and she wants to be part of the mission. How is that not a win-win?”  
   Pidge folded her arms. “Non-zero sum games notwithstanding, she’s incapable of taking orders. I like her, and I really do understand what she’s going through, but that stubbornness could get someone hurt.”  
   Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re one to talk; you and Keith both!” Then he raised both hands in a shrug. “You’ve got minds of your own. So what?”  
   “Besides that,” said Keith, “I don’t think it’s got anything to do with her being able to take orders.” His face softened a little bit. “Like it or not, she’s not our subordinate. She’s our _equal_.”  
   Something about that phrase made Shiro’s blood run cold. Keith was right, in a way that chilled him to the bone. She wasn’t just equal to _one_ of them; Miela was the perfect mix of all of their strongest traits as paladins. It made her powerful, and powerfully volatile.  
   Keith went on, breaking him out of his spell. “You asked me what I think. That’s it. Make your decision based on whatever you want.” He turned toward the door.  
   “Where are you going?” Allura asked.  
   He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’m going to do damage control,” he said, a bitter touch of irony in his soft tone.


	20. “One Step Closer” - Linkin Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela needs to blow off some steam

   “Begin training level five.”  
   Keith finally found the strange woman on the training deck, dueling with the animatronic gladiator. He entered the room to the sound of those words, and a wave of dread hit him in the chest. Did she really know what she was in for? Worse yet, had Pidge been able to repair the gladiator since that last fiasco? He took a deep breath to call out a warning to her, but it was too late. The one-eyed gladiator dropped from its entry port in the ceiling and landed nimbly before her, and began its advance.  
   Any warning he could have given her fell flat as he watched her move. She was fast; in moments, she had disarmed the training bot and sent it flying across the room.  
   Keith backed away in awe. Never mind, he thought. She actually can fend for herself.  
   Miela twisted her mouth in disappointment. She had thrown the gladiator bot too hard and lost her grip on its hand. Now she’d have to parry at least three more attacks before she could regain control of the match. She planted her feet and angled the bot’s staff along her arm. It was too long; she didn’t like that, but she could manage.  
   She knew that at this stage of training, the bot could easily take back the staff, so she needed to play keep-away for a bit.  
   The gladiator sprang to its feet and resumed its advance on her. Miela kept out of arm’s reach by backing away, circling the training ground in a wide arc.  
   Keith had never seen this particular art performed up close. He could easily see what she was doing; evade, evade, evade. Why wasn’t she attacking?  
   Just as he thought it, the bot reached too close, and she grabbed its wrist. With her other hand and the staff, she locked the gladiator’s elbow and drove it face-first into the mat. It resisted her for a few ticks, pressing its left hand into the floor and trying to rise despite the torque she was putting on its right arm.  
   Miela pushed its shoulder to the floor. “Submit,” she commanded.  
   The gladiator stopped its struggling, and the small green light in the middle of its mask flickered off in response.  
   Miela felt its joints go slack, and let its arm fall to the floor. She heaved a sigh and wiped her face.  
   She spotted Keith out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head to look at him.  
   “Were you just going to watch?” she asked.  
   Keith smirked and folded his arms. “That wasn’t my original idea, no.”  
   Miela flexed her fingers, and then rubbed a hand across her flat stomach. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was even, but still brick-hard, as if she were suddenly reluctant to let anyone in.  
   “Looking for you.”  
   “Why?” she asked.  
   Keith’s smirk faded. “Because I knew you’d be angry.”  
   It seemed like her eyes opened, then; as if she were just now seeing him for the first time. “You sought me out _because_ of that?” She finally allowed herself a small smile. “Some men would call that foolhardy.” She took a few steps toward him. “I’m sorry,” she said, a little more softly. “I didn’t mean to blow up. You’ve all been very kind to me, and it wasn’t right that I got flustered so easily.”  
   Keith harrumphed. “If that was you blowing up, I’d hate to see you really angry.” He let his hands drop to his sides. “Besides, it looked to me like you were even more in control of your emotions.”  
   Miela chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.”  
   “I think you might’ve scared Lance, though.”  
   The woman sputtered, and broke out laughing. Her laugh was earnest and free, and not withheld like before. How had he not noticed her before? That woman underneath the mask of humility- no, not humility. Something more painful. She hid herself so well until then, when her laughter broke the facade, and her colorful soul came pouring out.  
   He _liked_ her. Shiro would be so disappointed in him. Or, knowing Shiro, he’d understand, in whatever way it was that made him use that sad little smile.  
   Miela grimaced, and then coughed and pressed her hands to her stomach.  
   Keith started forward. “Are you okay?”  
   “Yeah.” She laughed under her breath and stood upright again. “You shouldn’t make me laugh so hard.” She wiped her eyes and gave him a grin.  
   He smiled. “You might have to remind me.” Suddenly, he noticed something behind her. Not movement; maybe the opposite- stillness. “Where’s the gladiator?”  
   Miela made a noise in her throat and turned to look over her shoulder. The bot had vanished. She heard Keith inhale sharply, and all her senses went on alert.  
   “Look out!”  
   She instinctively spun clockwise, narrowly dodging a blow that, if it had connected, could have broken her neck.  
   Her style had changed. Her stance was lower, drawing from the strength in her legs and core. She torqued her hips for a crippling kick to the gladiator’s upper leg, then stepped in close to drive her knee into the bot’s chest. She went low again, then used both legs to drive both fists up into the soft joint under the jaw, then finally spun again and delivered a fatal heel kick to the bot’s chest plate.  
   The robot crumpled to the training room floor, and was still.  
   “Holy crow!”  
   Miela and Keith both turned to see Lance and Pidge standing in the door.  
   Pidge stared at her for a few long ticks. “What the heck was that?” she squeaked.  
   Keith looked back at Miela. “It looked like Muay Thai, to me.”  
   The woman seemed to lose the strength in her legs then, and sank to her knees.  
   “Miela!” Lance cried. “Are you okay?” He ran over to her and bent to touch her shoulder.  
   She answered with a smile. “Woof,” she answered. “I’m tired now.” She laughed under her breath and put her hands on her knees.  
   Pidge turned to yell at Keith. “Why didn’t you tell her it was broken, you jerk?”  
   The red paladin looked over his shoulder at her. “She was already training with it when I came in.”  
   The girl narrowed her eyes at him. “What level was she training on?”  
   “Level five.”  
   “ _Five_?” she screeched. “It nearly killed me at level three! Or don’t you remember?” She put her hands on her hips.  
   “Look, don’t yell at me,” Keith said indignantly. “I never had time to tell her it was broken.”  
   “What’s going on?” asked Allura’s voice.  
   Pidge turned and looked over her shoulder at Shiro, Coran, and the princess.  
   “I was trying to blow off some steam,” Miela said before anyone else could answer. She finally stood up. “I’m sorry for worrying everyone. I should have asked permission before I came in here.”  
   Allura turned and looked at her Majordomo. “Coran, can you shut down the gladiator for now?” she asked. “The absolute last thing we need is another mishap.”  
   “Yes, Princess.” And Coran was off like a shot across the training room, toward the control room.  
   Shiro looked over at Miela. “Are you all right?”  
   “I’m fine, thank you.”  
   The black paladin relaxed. Her voice and her attitude had softened again.  
   “Have you come to a decision?” she asked.  
   Shiro sighed. He could tell her anything, but something twisted inside him at the thought of lying, even to a stranger. So, at the risk of angering her again, he chose honesty. “No. We were unable to come to a unanimous decision.”  
   Miela looked at princess Allura. “Your highness?”  
   The princess studied her for a few ticks, and then sighed. “If it were up to me…”  
   “Princess.”  
   She looked up at Miela, who had interrupted her.  
   “It _is_ up to you.” Miela turned her eyes down. “It is your castle, and they are your paladins.”  
   She said it with such deference… Allura studied the woman for a few ticks. At that moment, the princess felt that if she had given the order, Miela would respect whatever decision she made. What conclusions had the woman come to over the course of her battle with the castle gladiator?  
   But it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be right to ignore any of her paladins’ points of view in favor of whatever she might want. She sighed.  
   “That may be true,” said Allura, “but I have a great deal of respect for my team, and I trust their decisions. My vote does not count for more than theirs.”  
   That seemed to surprise Miela, who returned her green-eyed stare to the princess.  
   “That being said,” Allura continued, “We are all conflicted on how we should proceed, at this point. None of us wants to hurt your feelings, but we also don’t want to see you get hurt by making this decision lightly.” She smiled sympathetically. “We like you, Miela, and you’re well on your way to being a powerful ally and a good friend. That is something we’d like to protect.”  
   Miela suddenly looked conflicted, herself. She swallowed and looked at the floor again. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was soft, and had a nervous crack in it. “I… I never took that aspect into account. I placed my wants and needs above yours… I am so sorry.” She looked and sounded like she was going to cry.  
   Lance, who stood closest to her, placed his hand on her shoulder. “We all have things we want to protect,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t think anyone blames you for being…” He looked at Pidge. “What’s a good word?”  
   The green paladin folded her arms. “Fervent?” she suggested wryly. Then she smiled at Miela. “I’ve been known to be that way, myself. Just don’t forget, you have people who care about you.”  
   Miela inhaled and covered her mouth with one hand. Barely two quintants aboard, and she had people who _cared_ about her.  
   The princess smiled. She had done the right thing. Having said what she needed to say, Allura turned to leave.  
   “Princess Allura.”  
   Allura turned and looked at Miela. “Yes?”  
   “The shipment arrives in three more quintants. Can I expect your answer by then?”  
   The princess thought about it. “I suppose that’s fair.”


	21. “The Blue Danube Waltz” - Johann Strauss II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finally reprograms the gladiator.

   Miela stayed in the training room with Pidge and Coran until lunch. Luckily, it was easy for Pidge to find the exposed wire that had been responsible for unexpectedly turning the gladiator on and off. She dabbed a little bit of rubberized sealant on the wire, and put the console back together.  
   “Is that all?” Miela asked. “I feel like I could have done that.”  
   “Yep, that’s it,” Pidge replied with a sigh. “Sometimes these guys are pretty helpless without us smart chicks around.”  
   Miela blinked and looked at Pidge a little more intently, and then chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”  
   Pidge looked up at Coran, who was standing over them. “Well, ‘Coranic,’” she jabbed, “mind if we add on any functions?”  
   He raised his orange eyebrows at her. “What kind of functions?”  
   Pidge stood up and began typing on the screen. “We could add a few different styles of martial arts,” she said. “Miela knows a few…”  
   The woman held up both hands. “No, I don’t,” she cut in. “I know a few things that work for a few different situations.”  
   Pidge smiled at her. “Well, if what I saw was any indicator, then I’d say you know enough to at least add something in.”  
   Miela narrowed her eyes at the girl. “What you’re suggesting is that we add specific moves to your gladiator’s arsenal. It’s not supposed to keep trying to kill us. Those moves I used earlier were _meant_ to kill.”  
   “We should probably know how to block moves like that,” Pidge said.  
   Miela held up her hands. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, truly, I do. But you can’t block or parry every move in the book. The human body has its limits. Even one of those blows could break any bone in the body. Sometimes the only thing you can do is evade.” Then she seemed to be hit with an idea.  
   “What is it?”  
   “Before you came in, I was doing Aikido throws and footwork. But that’s not something you can learn from a robot. You need a partner to teach you.” She looked up at Coran. “Can you dance?”  
   “Yes, I- What?”  
   The woman laughed under her breath. “You can’t learn basic footwork if your partner keeps throwing you around. Dancing is actually a great way to learn distance control and area awareness.”  
   Pidge lit up. “That’s a great idea!” She turned to the older man. “Can we, Coran? Please?”  
   He shrugged at her. “It’s not a bad idea, and I’ll admit to being a fantastic dancer, but I’m not sure how you’d go about programming it.”  
   Miela looked at Pidge. “Can you use that headgear to record our movements?” she asked.  
   “I can, but it might be easier to do it without the headgear. No, wait. You wear it, and I’ll track you.” She smiled up at Miela. “Want me to play some music?”  
   “Maybe once I teach him the steps.” She gave Coran a sly smile. “All right, Mr. Fantastic Dancer. Let’s see what you’ve got.”  
   She had Coran stand on the other side of the training room from her. “Walk to me,” she said. Coran did as instructed, and Miela took him by the shoulders and spun him around. “Good. The first dance we’re going to do is called a waltz. It’s in three beats, so I want you to walk back across the room, counting every third step.”  
   Coran marched back across the room. Step, step, “Three,” step, step, “three…” When he reached the other side of the training ground, he stopped.  
   “Excellent. Now, on your way back, I want you to put more spring into it. The first beat dips downward, so bend your knee a bit more on that step. Ready?” Coran stepped into the downbeat. “ _One_ two three, _one_ two three…”  
   Coran tripped once, but Miela kept counting, so he picked up the beat and kept waltzing. When he reached the other side of the room, he heaved a breath. “That’s harder than it looks.”  
   Miela smirked. “And this is the easy one,” she said.  
   “What?”  
   She chuckled. “All right, let’s dance in place for a moment. We’re going to use a format called a ‘box step’. Since you’re learning this for the first time, I’ll lead.” She placed his left hand on her shoulder, and cupped his right in hers. “Go back on your right- _down_ \- to the side on your left- _up_ \- and bring your feet together- _up_. Then forward…” She repeated the instructions once, and in another minute, Coran was following her beautifully. “And that’s why it’s called a box step.”  
   “That’s… actually not so hard!”  
   Miela looked up at the control room. “Pidge, let’s have some music.”  
   “Waltz, right?” the girl asked. “How about… ‘The Blue Danube’?”  
   “Perfect.”  
   As slow music began wafting over the sound systems, Miela took Coran into the dancer’s embrace and began an easy box step.  
   “All right, can you follow me?” she asked.  
   “I think so.”  
   “Okay, give me a little resistance in your right arm… Good. Now, no matter what, just keep stepping.” She gave his hand a gentle push, and they pivoted across the floor. “This is called a half box step.”  
   “Twirl him, Miela!” Pidge said into the microphone.  
   “Good idea!” Miela said. “Coran, keep going. Down, up, up…” She crossed his right arm over his chest, and spun him slowly under her arm. “Now my turn. The leader spins across the shoulder or the back, not over the top of the head.” She demonstrated once. “Now this next move is a half-turn called a ‘sweetheart’. It’s going to be hard because you’re taller than me, but keep a gentle hold on both my hands…” She spun him in, so that they were hip-to-hip. “And forward promenade… Now a hesitation step…”  
   “Dip him!” Pidge cried.  
   Coran sounded shocked. “Do _what_?”  
   Miela laughed. “All right, keep your weight on your back foot. I can’t hold you up by myself. And you’re just going to lean backward…” She torqued his figure gently. “Like so.”  
   Up in the control room, Pidge broke down, cackling like a maniac.  
   The woman leaned Coran back upright and continued to dance. “Don’t you start,” Miela warned her, though there was laughter in her voice. “ _You’re_ next!”  
   Pidge choked on her laughter. “Me?”  
   “Can I be next?” Miela looked over at Lance, who had his hands shoved in his coat pockets.  
   “You dance?”  
   “A little, yeah.”  
   The woman released Coran and curtsied to him. “Thank you for the dance, Coran.”  
   Coran bowed. “Thank you, Miela.”  
   She looked up at him. “If you could go help Pidge arrange those steps in order of difficulty, it would really help us.”  
   “Certainly.”  
   “Pidge, switch it over to follower mode.”  
   “Got it,” said the girl’s voice. “Okay, you’re all set.”  
   Lance looked up at the control room window. “Can we pick it up a notch?”  
   “How far is a notch?” she asked.  
   “‘Waltz of the Flowers,’ maybe?”  
   Pidge paused for a moment while she listened to a ten-tick snippet of the song. “Okay, sure. That’s good.” She began broadcasting it over the speakers.  
   Lance and Miela bowed to each other, and then he held out his hand for hers.  
   She had half-expected the movements to be jerky and unpracticed, but as soon as he pulled her into his arms, they floated across the training room.  
   Coran looked over Pidge’s shoulder, down into the room. “So that’s what this ‘waltz’ is supposed to look like,” he mused.  
   “Well, mostly,” Miela answered from below. “I’m not a professional.”  
   Lance glanced up at them between half box steps. “And I’m honestly better at salsa.”  
   “Really?” Miela asked, looking down into his face. “That’s really cool! We’ll have to program that one in for one of the later levels.”  
   Lance gave her a funny look before twirling her into a sweetheart stance. “You’re programming the gladiator to dance?”  
   “Yeah. For footwork practice.”  
   “That…” he paused. “… makes a weird sort of sense. Actually, not so weird, now that I think about it.”  
   Miela chuckled. “I’m glad you agree.”  
   Lance gently turned her sideways and began a chassé three steps across the floor. “You’re really good at this.”  
   “Thank you! So are you!”  
   Lance gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Eh. I’m all right. I mean, the reason I said you were good? Every leader is different, has different styles and uses of force. You… you started dancing with me, and you just… fit.” He smiled at her. “You can officially consider yourself an excellent dancer.”  
   Miela blushed a little. “Th-thank you.”  
   “You’re welcome.”  
   They danced in silence for a few beats, and then Miela mumbled something over the music. “You might have to refresh my memory on salsa, though.”  
   Lance chuckled. “That actually makes me feel better. For a while there, I thought you might just be good at everything.”  
   She cut her eyes up at him. “It’s nice to know I’m _human_?” she asked.  
   “Well, yeah. I’d hoped to make it sound a little nicer than that, though.” He guided her through a complex twirl. “But for future reference, is there anything else you’re not good at?”  
   She thought about it, and in the mean time landed squarely back in his arms. “Well, I really suck at _bocce_.”  
   “Bocce? Oh, that’s kind of like bowling, isn’t it?”  
   “Yeah. It’s really hilarious.”  
   Lance sputtered and broke into a laugh. “Sorry,” he finally said. “That’s a really weird thing to suck at.”  
   Miela was smiling. “I know, right?” She thought a moment more. “I think I’ll have to come up with more answers. That one was just too funny not to mention.”  
   “Don’t, actually,” said Lance. “I’m cool with just knowing that you’re real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't I say there would be dancing? Now just you wait. It gets better. Muahahaha.


	22. “String of Pearls” - Glenn Miller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge brings Allura and Shiro in on the fun... or is it fun?

   “Allura!”  
   The princess got a chill down her spine at the sound of her name being yelled across the main deck. She spun and looked at Pidge, who was standing in the door, sweating and breathless.  
   “Pidge, are you all right?” She abandoned what she was doing and trotted up to the girl.  
   “I’m great,” she said with a smile. “Listen, I need a favor.”  
   Allura narrowed her eyes at the girl. “A favor? What kind of favor?”  
   “A dress.” She swallowed and tried to catch her breath. “I need a dress, and- and makeup, and shoes…”  
   The princess held up both hands. “Hold on, now. What is going on, that you would need a dress?”  
   “Miela’s teaching me how to dance! Come on!” She took Allura by the hand and dragged her from the room.  
   “But… Pidge, wait! Wait a tick!” She pulled back and dug in her heels, making Pidge whiplash backward. She stood there for a moment, trying to calm down. “Listen, it’s thrilling to know you’ve found something you’re passionate about, and I certainly don’t mind loaning out one or two of my dresses,” Allura said, “but… are you sure about this?”  
   “About what?” the girl finally asked.  
   “Well… wearing dresses and makeups.”  
   Pidge lowered one eyebrow at her. “Well, I used to wear dresses pretty often. It’s not something I’m against.” Then she smiled. “But the dress isn’t for me. It’s for Miela.”  
   Allura cocked her head. “Why? Did she ask for one? Did something happen to her suit?”  
   “Well, no.” Pidge rubbed the back of her head, sheepishly. “And she’d probably turn it down if I asked her, so I came straight to you.”  
   “Then why?”  
   Pidge’s face broke into a huge smile. “You’ve _got_ to see this.”  
   She pulled Allura partway down the hall with her, turned the corner and nearly ran into Shiro, who was carrying a plate of food goo. She ducked his arm, and he raised the plate over her head with a startled sound.  
   “Whoops! Sorry, Shiro!” Pidge called over her shoulder.  
   Allura was a few steps behind, but this time Shiro was far enough out of the way to avoid colliding with her.  
   “What is going on?” he asked in confusion.  
   Allura raised both hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t really know. Something about dancing? Apparently it’s something worth seeing.” And then she dashed off down the hall after Pidge.  
   Shiro pointed a disgruntled look down the hall after them. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he mumbled. He turned to continue in the direction he had been going, but stopped for a moment and looked down at the green goo on his plate. Something in him made a decision, and he lowered his chin to his chest and sighed. “I’m going to regret this…” He set the plate down in the middle of the hallway and turned and sprinted after his two teammates. “Satisfaction brought it back!”  
   When Pidge arrived at the training deck, Miela was busy teaching Hunk some basic steps. Instead of a closed embrace, she was holding both his hands, allowing him to mirror her motions exactly.  
   “Okay, left, right, rock-step. That’s it. Now can you do the sweetheart?”  
   “Yeah. One, two, rock, and…” He folded her under his arm, perfectly in time, and they rocked backward together. “Rock-step. Hey, I got it!”  
   “You did! Very good!” She looked at their coupled hands. “All right. We’re going to do a trick that looks really hard, but it’s not. I’m going to jump, you’ll lean left and brace me on your hip for a moment, and I’ll jump back down. Ready?” She counted off four beats, and then bounced easily up onto his hip. He held her there for barely a tick, and bounced her back down. “And one, two, rock-step. Excellent!”  
   “Wow, that’s really cool!” said Hunk. “I can’t wait to try out the bot now!”  
   “The bot?” Shiro asked. “You fixed it?”  
   Miela and Hunk turned and looked at the three people who had burst into the training room with them.  
   “Yeah,” said Pidge. “It was an easy fix, so we added in some footwork training.”  
   Shiro looked at her. “In the form of dancing?” He smirked. “That’s pretty inventive!”  
   Pidge stroked her chin with her thumb and finger. “Of course, now that you’re here, I’m really tempted to set up a sparring match between you two.”  
   Miela’s eyes widened, and red broke out across her cheekbones. “Pidge!”  
   “What?” she asked. “A girl can dream.”  
   The woman in black twisted her mouth at Pidge in disapproval. “I hope you’ll postpone it. We’ve been dancing for hours.” She folded her arms.  
   “Well, can you at least show him what we’ve done with the bot?” Pidge asked.  
   Allura raised one hand to indicate Pidge. “She was adamant that I witness you in action,” she explained.  
   Pidge folded her hands in front of her. “Pleeeeeease?”  
   Miela rolled her eyes. “Oh, Pidge, could your eyes get _any_ bigger?” She sighed. “Very well.”  
   “Yessss!” Pidge hissed in victory. “Goo-goo eyes win again!”  
   Miela held up a finger. “But after that, I really should take a break and eat something.”  
   Hunk indicated himself with the tip of his thumb. “Leave it to me. I’ll scrape something together for lunch.” He patted his ample belly. “I’m getting hungry too.” He waved once to everyone, and turned to leave. The door opened, and he passed Keith on his way out. “Hey, Keith.”  
   “Hey.” Keith looked up. “What’s everyone still doing in here?” he asked.  
   Pidge ran around behind him and pushed against his back. “You’re just in time. Go sit down.”  
   “What? In time for what?”  
   “Go!”  
   “Pidge…”  
   “Go, already!”  
   “Okay, okay, I’m going!” He let her push him over next to Lance, who was sitting cross-legged against the wall, and sat down next to the blue paladin with a plop.  
   Miela sighed and looked over at Lance. “What should I start with?”  
   He thought a moment. “Foxtrot,” he decided. “Then keep increasing the difficulty.”  
   The woman nodded and looked up at the control room. “Begin footwork training, foxtrot, all levels.” The gladiator bot dropped from the ceiling and landed before her, and then held out its hand. “Pidge, can you play ‘String of Pearls’?”  
   Pidge looked through the collection of music on her device. “Coming right up.” Easy jazz began gently pulsing through the room.  
   Miela took the gladiator’s hand and let it close its other arm around her. It was much taller than her; taller even than Shiro, but it guided her across the floor with inhuman ease, and she easily matched it step for step.  
   Keith made a noise of intrigue. “She’s pretty good.”  
   Lance glanced over at him. “Mullet, you wouldn’t know ‘good’ if it bit you. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”  
   After about a dobosh of following steps of increasing difficulty, Miela looked up at the control room again. “Pause training sequence.”  
   The gladiator released her and backed away, and she glanced at Pidge again. “How about a waltz, Pidge?”  
   The girl scanned her device. “‘Moon River?’”  
   “Whatever you like.” She looked at the bot again as string music filled the room. “Begin footwork training, waltz, all levels.”  
   And they began again.  
   “She’s beautiful…” Keith didn’t know he had spoken until the words were out, for anyone to hear. He came back to himself with a start as he realized what he had said.  
   Lance folded his arms over his knees and set his head on them. “Yeah, she is.” His tone was noticeably unhappy.  
   Keith looked at him. “She turned you down?”  
   “Yup. I didn’t even get to use my best lines on her.” He sighed. “Then again, I don’t think even _they_ would be good enough.” He watched her for another few ticks. “She’s focused on that one thing, whatever it is. Even this, what she’s doing now, is just another step in achieving it.”  
   Keith’s eyebrows went up, and then came together in dismay. He looked at Miela, twirling fluidly across the floor. “I thought… I thought she was just having fun.”  
   “Nah, man, look at her.” He held out his arm in her direction. “She’s not even smiling.”  
   Keith looked. He was right. Her face was flat, stoic and focused.  
   Lance folded the lanky arm in again. “We’re the ones having fun.” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, she’ll let you get close. She let Hunk hug her, and she let me put my arm around her, but there’s still that big red line that says, ‘Do not cross,’ right there between her and everyone else.” He looked down the legs of his jeans at his sneakers. “At least she’s really nice about it all. She could have humiliated me, but she didn’t.”  
   Miela paused the training sequence again, and had Pidge begin playing a fast swing song she called “Sing, Sing, Sing.” Her moves were lighter now, much faster, her stance open for ease of motion, but still she matched the massive gladiator at every step. It spun her feverishly, its advanced steps becoming more and more acrobatic as it went along.  
   When she landed back in standard step, Miela paused the session again and backed away from the gladiator. In the light, they could see her skin had a sheen of sweat, but she didn’t seem to be breathing hard for some reason.  
   Shiro cocked his head. “How is she not gasping for breath after that?” he asked.  
   Pidge folded her arms. “She matches her breathing to a certain beat in the music. If you watch closely, you can count the beats between each breath.” She raised an arm and waved at Miela. “You doing okay?”  
   The woman bent and braced her hands on her knees. “Give me a tick.”  
   Shiro raised his eyebrows at her. “You can stop if you need to,” he said.  
   Miela took a moment more, and then stood upright. “One more.” She sighed. “This one’s level four.”  
   “What?” Lance asked. “I thought for sure salsa would be at least a level five!”  
   Miela looked at him and shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Lance. It’s tiring, but it’s not the most difficult dance I’ve ever done.”  
   “What is?” the Cuban boy asked.  
   She frowned a little. “I won’t be able to do any more demonstrations or programming until after lunch, Lance.” She relented and let her face relax into a smile. “I’m just about at my limit.”  
   Lance raised his eyebrows. “Okay.”  
   Miela took a calming breath. “Okay, Pidge. ‘Salsa Italiana’.”  
   “I’m on it.” The music came on, and she looked up. “Are you sure about this, Miela?” she asked. “That’s really fast.”  
   She smiled at the girl. “It’s my last one. And it’s only for a dobosh. It’ll be all right.”  
   “Okay…”  
   Salsa music poured into the room, fast and hot, and Miela looked at the gladiator. “Begin footwork training, Salsa, all levels.”  
   She had saved her best for last. Her moves spelled out a hidden sweetness in the music, in the curve of her hips and the small of her back. No step was too difficult, no trick ever forced.  
   Keith leaned forward intently, his gaze fixed on every twist of her body.  
   Lance did the opposite, and leaned back against the wall, arms folded with pride. “She’s a quick study,” he said. “Pretty soon, I won’t be able to keep up with her.”  
   That broke Keith out of his spell, and he glared disbelievingly at Lance. “ _You_ taught her that? There’s no way.”  
   Pidge spoke up. “I’m actually going to vouch for Lance, here. He really did teach her to salsa.”  
   Keith lowered his eyebrows and gave the blue paladin a disgruntled stare. “Okay. Fine. You might actually have to teach me to do that.” Then he leaned back again and tried to ignore Lance’s self-satisfied smirk.  
   Pidge looked up at Allura and gave her a sly smirk. “ _Now_ do you see why I wanted her to have a dress?” she asked, although she really didn’t expect an answer.  
   Allura did. The strange woman’s motions revealed exactly how dangerous she was, and the princess could finally pin down the emotion that made her so wary of Miela. She was a siren; every word, every move was capable of seduction. She looked around at her team, and a bolt of fear went through her as she realized…  
   They were all looking at _her_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pic for this one!
> 
>   
> [Push](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Push-670813405) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	23. “I Could Have Done More,” from “Schindler’s List” - John Williams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura needs some time to figure out what she's going to do next.

   Just to be nice, Allura told Pidge she would set aside a dress for Miela. She had already turned down a formal gown once, and Allura had thought nothing of it, but now… What kind of damage would that do? Her team; they were already too enamored with her, a woman who, more likely than not, would be leaving as soon as their mission ended. In only two quintants, she had earned their admiration, if not their trust, though if she was right, that wasn’t far off either.  
   She was kind, she was talented, she was smart; Miela was everything Allura had hoped for in a friend. But in her heart, the princess couldn’t shake that hammering, desperate fear that this woman, whoever she really was, might ruin everything they had worked toward.  
   Allura sequestered herself in the memorial room that had once housed her father’s memory column. It was long since broken, and the shattered fragments swept away and gone. She couldn’t feel him here anymore. She sat down against the wall and stared at the jagged remains of the memorial. Maybe if she sat here long enough, she would wake up, and her father would still be there to tell her what course to take.  
   But she stared at the column until her eyes felt dry, and nothing happened. She felt a tingling in her nose, felt her chin dimple, and the moisture returned to her eyes. But it wasn’t satisfying. Not until her heart pulsed an ache through her body, and she put her head on her arms and began to cry.  
   “Father, what do I do?” she breathed between her sobs. “You never prepared me for this. Did you never see it? What do I do? What do I _do_?”  
   She cried for a few doboshes, until the door opened, and she looked up with a gasp.  
   Miela stood in the door. When she realized the Princess had been crying, a look of horror crossed her face. Finally, she averted her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”  
   Allura quickly wiped her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone soft and undemanding.  
   Miela didn’t look at her. “I needed to get away for a moment,” she said. “I enjoy spending time with your paladins, but they can be pretty demanding of me.” She turned slightly. “I didn’t know where I was going, or that you’d be here. I can leave, if you want.”  
   Allura put her head in her arms again, turning her face away from Miela. “Do what you like.”  
   For a moment, it was so quiet that Allura couldn’t be sure if the woman had left or not. Then, out of the silence came the soft sound of her voice.  
   “You’re afraid of me.”  
   Allura cut her eyes in the woman’s direction, but still couldn’t see her. “And shouldn’t I be?”  
   “I wouldn’t think so.”  
   The princess raised her head just enough to be able to see Miela from under her eyebrows. “You really are naive, aren’t you?” she mumbled.  
   Miela harrumphed, then slowly walked over and sat down next to her. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She propped her arms on her knees. “I know _why_ you’re afraid of me, Princess. I just don’t think you _should_ be.” The woman studied her for a moment, and then looked away and sighed. “Maybe I am naive, though.” She laughed under her breath. “I was hoping we could eventually be friends. Is that foolish?”  
   “Not in itself, no.” Allura put her head on her arms again. “Maybe it’s just your timing,” she said. “We’ve got so much at stake now that I’m terrified of the slightest upset.”  
   “I understand.”  
   “Do you?” She picked her head up and looked at Miela. “Do you really know how close you are to destroying everything we’ve worked for?”  
   A flash of deep sadness crossed Miela’s face. “Yes.” She looked at her knees. “I seem to be very good at attracting attention, both here and at home. When I was a bit younger, I often got myself in trouble… of a romantic sort.” She glanced up at Allura. “I know well enough now that this is precisely the sort of trouble you don’t want brewing within your team.” Miela held her gaze for a moment. “We are on the brink of disrupting _each other’s_ missions, Allura,” she said. “Please do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only one with something precious at stake.” She looked at the floor. “If it would help you to think of me as a rival, I would not blame you, but I think it would cause us both undue stress. If anything, I would rather you see me as an unfeeling party; a sociopath, if you like.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I’m certain I can act the part.”  
   Allura picked her head up off her arms. “Why? Why would you even suggest that?”  
   “Because then you can be assured that I would only act in my _own_ interests. As you’ve already seen, my mission in no way conflicts with yours, and I would not have it so.”  
   Allura understood. “But a sociopath _would_ create a conflict if the situation did not play out in their best interests.”  
   “Exactly.” She smiled.  
   But if anything, Allura felt more afraid than before. “A-are you?” she asked hesitantly. “Are you really like that?”  
   “No.” She looked at the princess again. “If I were, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to get back to Aepsis.” She broke eye contact and studied the fabric of Allura’s sleeve. “Someone very dear to me is still down there, and I would give anything…” She stopped and turned away.  
   “Miela?”  
   The woman in black furrowed her brow and forced the conversation back on track. “Our causes are _aligned_ , Princess. And as of yet, you have no reason to be afraid of me. I won’t trip you up if you don’t trip me up.” She smirked. “Quite the delicate dance we’ve found ourselves in, isn’t it?” She put her head in her arms. “I wish my _papa_ were here. He was always good at this political strategy thing.”  
   “He was?”  
   Miela shrugged. “Still is, as far as I know. Me, I’m just stubborn.”  
   Allura smirked. “I think we can agree on that.”  
   They were silent for a few moments after that.  
   A few ticks later, Miela spoke. “I miss him. I miss them both so much…”  
   Allura’s expression turned surprised. “Your parents are still on Earth?”  
   Miela nodded. “And my sister.” She laughed, ruefully. “They must think I’m dead, by now.” She forced the sorrow in her voice back down. “My only other connection is on that wretched planet below us.”  
   Allura studied her for a moment, and then looked at her hands. She really wasn’t a bad person, was she? All this talk about playing the part of a sociopath; Miela could probably do it, but what would it cost? All of their potential friendships, any good feeling between them at all, just for a _sense_ of security.  
   “Don’t do it.”  
   Miela looked at her. “Don’t do what?”  
   “Don’t… bury your feelings for my sake.” She fidgeted with the tips of her fingers. “Those feelings are what connect you to your fellow humans… and they make you creative and beautiful and… three-dimensional.” Allura looked at her. “I appreciate that you would make that sacrifice for us, but… It would lose you.”  
   “I know.”  
   Allura was stunned. “Y-you do?” She stared at Miela, but the woman said nothing. “Then… why?”  
   What the woman did next both shocked and horrified Allura. She smiled. And when she smiled, she looked _exactly_ like Shiro.  
   “Because he’s worth losing everything.”  
   Allura could no longer help herself. She got to her knees and threw her arms around Miela’s neck. There was only one real reason she could think of for making that kind of risk. Love; the visceral, adamant kind that would wage war, wade through blood, and cross light-years. And if it was real, then Miela was right. It was worth it.  
   Finally, Allura drew back to arm’s length and gripped the woman’s shoulders. Her eyes were full of tears, just like Miela’s. “Please,” the princess pled softly. “Don’t do that. If you really love him, don’t do that.” She wiped her eyes. “I’ll change my vote. I think you should accompany the paladins to Aepsis.”  
   Miela inhaled sharply. “Princess…”  
   Allura held up a finger. “Barring any complications. To be on the safe side.”  
   The woman choked down her grateful tears. “That’s fair. Thank you.”


	24. “Tango Jalousie” - Jacob Gade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela's compatibility test; she should be thrilled, but...

   “We’ll have to test you for compatibility,” said the princess as they slowly made their way back toward the training room.  
   “What does that entail?” Miela asked.  
   Allura looked over at her. “Well, your dancing skills are an excellent start. They prove you can lead, and that you can follow someone else’s lead.” She smirked. “You learned that last dance… Salsa, was it? You learned that from Lance. But out there on Aepsis, on a potential battleground, you won’t be following his orders.”  
   Miela’s face fell. “Let me guess. I’ll be taking my cues from Shiro.”  
   “Yes, you would. Is that a problem?”  
   “N-no.”  
   Allura gave her a worried smirk. “Why the long face, then?”  
   Miela looked up at her. “It just feels like we’ve been at odds on and off since I arrived. I’m worried that will affect our compatibility.”  
   Allura sighed. “I won’t lie; it might. And that could be seen as a potential complication.” Then she gave Miela a reassuring smile. “But this is a chance to find that out before we begin the mission to Aepsis. And it might give you a chance to bond with Shiro a little.”  
   The woman in black narrowed her eyes up at Allura. “What are you planning?”  
   Allura opened the training room door. “A little more time programming the gladiator.”  
   Shiro stood in the middle of the training room floor, wearing one of the Altean headpieces.  
   Miela stared at him for a moment before her expression settled into a resigned frown. “You want me to dance with Shiro.” She sighed. “I should have expected this.”  
   Allura looked down at her. “Are you not pleased with this solution?”  
   The woman advanced into the room. “More terrified than displeased.”  
   “Oh, come now. What could go wrong?”  
   “I don’t care to make any guesses.” She took the headset that Coran held out to her, and put it on. “What are we doing?”  
   Lance stood up from his seat against the wall. “You were going to tell us what the most difficult dance form you’d ever done was.”  
   Miela sighed again. “Of course I was.” She shot Allura a half-glare, but the princess was unfazed.  
   “Was it ballet?” Pidge asked from the control room above. “I did ballet when I was little, and that was some seriously hard stuff.”  
   The woman glanced up at her. “No. I-it was…” she stopped.  
   Pidge’s face became confused. “Harder than ballet?” she asked. “What’s harder than ballet?”  
   Miela put a hand to her chest. She could feel her heart racing, but she tried to breathe slowly and evenly. “Ballet is hard on the body,” she said, taking a few steps toward Shiro. “But… this dance is hard on the emotions.”  
   “What is it?” Keith asked from his seat.  
   The woman took a deep breath. “Tango.”  
   Lance started backward in surprise, and then turned to Allura. “You were going to give her a dress, and then have her tango with _Shiro_? Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?”  
   Allura folded her arms and cut her eyes up at him. “Maybe if I did, you’d stop using those awful pick-up lines.” Her mouth curved upward in a sly smile.  
   The blue paladin’s shoulders slumped forward. “Wow, Allura. I’m going to need some cream for that burn.”  
   Miela turned and looked up at Pidge. “Are you ready for us?”  
   “Yup. Just say when.”  
   The woman’s eyes came down and met Shiro’s, their color shifting from brown to green with the angle of the light. “Have you done this before?” she asked.  
   “Some.”  
   She frowned at him. “That really doesn’t tell me anything.” He laughed under his breath, and the tension rose in her shoulders.  
   “Let’s let our dancing skills do the talking, then,” he suggested. He looked up at the control room. “Pidge, play ‘Libertango’. The original version, if you can find it.”  
   Miela’s eyes widened, and her shoulders went up around her ears. Then she clenched her fists, and her face drew into a scowl. “Son of a…!” Shiro stopped her with only a slight narrowing of the eyes. Miela cut off the curse, but went on into an explanation of her displeasure. “I’ve never danced with you, and you’re going to play one of the most _difficult_ Argentinian tangoes ever?”  
   Shiro held out his right hand to her. “Do you object?” He lowered one eyebrow at her. “Just as a warning, I might throw in some _milonga_ with it.”  
   The woman let out a resentful growl. “You couldn’t possibly make this any harder.”  
   “I most certainly could.” He beckoned to her with the tips of his prosthetic as a sultry beat pulsed across the room. “Now, may I please have this dance?”  
   Lance folded his arms. “Well, if their bickering is any indicator, this should be pretty good.”  
   Allura looked at him. “Seriously? That’s a good thing?”  
   He glanced over at her. “Sure. Tango as an art form is based heavily on passion. That includes arguing.” He refocused his attention on the two dancers, who were circling each other like fighters. “However, Miela and Shiro are both very powerful personalities. If they leave that tension between them, I might have to stop them.”  
   “Why?”  
   Lance looked over at her. “Keep in mind, we’re not just measuring their compatibility. We’re programming an advanced computer. If they don’t act like professionals, it will affect their dancing and the bot’s programming.” He looked away. “Then it becomes dangerous for the rest of us.”  
   Allura refocused her attention on Miela and Shiro. They began with a clash, in a pose that looked as much like war as it did seduction. The princess took in a breath. She had never seen him like this- tense and resistant, but at the same time yearning towards something that the music barely glossed over. The pull of the dance was intimate and intoxicating, and almost uncomfortable to watch. She watched him for a while, and then switched her gaze over to Miela. When she did, she suddenly realized that Shiro’s partner was the source of her discomfort. That wasn’t odd, itself, but her reason why was; Miela followed him gracefully across the floor, never missing a step, never out of tempo, but her figure was rigid, less fluid than before. She didn’t trust Shiro, and Shiro wasn’t ready to trust her.  
   The tango was beautiful, and they were both exceptional dancers, but it wasn’t perfect.  
   “Hold it!” Lance’s voice bellowed. “Stop the music!”  
   Pidge obeyed, and silence fell over the room.  
   Miela and Shiro stopped dancing and backed away from each other as Lance stalked over to them.  
   “Holy quiznak, all the _posturing_ between you two!” Lance mumbled. He came inside arm’s reach and put his hands on his hips authoritatively. “What do you think you’re doing?” He aimed a glare at Shiro, who was taken aback by the sudden authoritarian tone.  
   “Uh… Dancing?”  
   Lance’s frown turned dry. “Really?” He folded his arms. “You might be dancing, Shiro, but that was _not_ a tango.” He threw up his hands. “You’re dancing at a level two, when you could _easily_ do level six or seven.”  
   Shiro narrowed his eyes at him. “My steps are fine…”  
   “Your steps aren’t the problem,” Lance interrupted. “You think a tango is about control, and it’s not. You have to let go. Give in. Let her be herself and quit _expecting_.”  
   Surprise, and then fear, flashed across Shiro’s expression. “I… didn’t think that would be a good idea.”  
   “Why not?”  
   “I…I thought…” Shiro’s eyes flicked involuntarily over at Miela, and Lance lost it.  
   “Oh, _grow up_!” Lance snapped. “It’s a dance. What are you so scared of?”  
   Shiro stared at him for a moment, until sweat started to bead at his temples in embarrassment. “N…Nothing,” he stammered, and looked away.  
   “Good.” Lance swung around and pointed a firm look at Miela. “And _you_.”  
   The woman’s eyes widened in response.  
   “You’ve got that wall up again. How can you expect to bond with him like that?”  
   Miela blushed and looked at the floor.  
   Lance sighed and softened his tone. “What happened to the girl who was belting ‘Habañera’ in the kitchen yester-quintant?”  
   “Yeah, I actually second that,” said Hunk, who was sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the door from Keith. “You actually looked like a gypsy, then,” he said. “I dunno what just happened, but you lost it, here.”  
   Lance turned and looked at Miela again. “Let him in. He won’t hurt you.”  
   Miela just studied him, worry etched in her face. He could read the expression so clearly, it made his chest hurt; are you sure?  
   Lance sighed. “Last things last. Your choice in music was inappropriate.”  
   Shiro lowered both eyebrows in a pout. “What does that mean?”  
   “It means you were more focused on showing off than anything _important_.” He looked up at the control room. “Pidge, play ‘Jealousy Tango’.”  
   “You mean ‘Tango Jalousie’?”  
   Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “They mean the same thing, Pidge.”  
   “Hey, spelling makes a difference,” she retorted.  
   Lance shot her a glare and moved away from the dancers. “Now, take your time before you get into it,” he advised. “Get to know each other. Feel out your movements. You’re playing a seduction, not a one-night stand.”  
   Allura blushed deeply at the comment. “Lance!”  
   Keith laughed. “As if you’d know what that was like.”  
   Lance sighed at the teasing. “Play the quiznaking music,” he groaned.  
   A violin glissando poured like a waterfall into the training room, arrhythmic, but compelling all the same.  
   Miela looked up at her dance partner. She couldn’t explain how, not really, but he looked different; if she had to define it, she might have said he somehow looked less sure of himself. But the moment she took his hand, she could feel the connection, down his prosthetic, up into his shoulder and across his chest. He twirled her in close, and embraced her, the heat of his left hand pressed possessively into her abdomen. Miela felt the tension melt away, and she was gone.  
   Keith had almost hoped their dancing wouldn’t improve. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to be compatible, or that he didn’t want Miela to join them on their return trip to Aepsis. If anything, he wanted Miela to be able to complete whatever mission she had in mind.  
   Maybe it was just the dance, then. Watching the two of them, his commanding officer and the mysterious black-clad woman floating across the room made his chest ache. Shouldn’t this kind of thing be done behind closed doors? After Lance’s stern talking-to, their movements were more sensual, less awkward. Each deft touch said more with less; less force, less motion, less effort… _Less_. They came together, too close- barely a breath away from a kiss, shoved hard apart, and fell in close step again, as if some secret were being passed back and forth between them.  
   Lance said something then, which resonated from the top of his head all the way to his diaphragm. “‘We dance the tango because we have secrets.’”  
   Keith couldn’t watch anymore. His heart was racing, and he was breathing too hard to just be sitting there. He staggered to his feet. It registered, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Lance said his name, but he had to get out. He clutched at the aching spot in his chest and fled the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I didn't draw this sooner. Pic here!  
> [Tango Jalousie](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Tango-Jalousie-674272635) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	25. “Undisclosed Desires” - Muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance explains tango to an embarrassed and very confused Keith

   A splash of cold water cleared the red fog from his eyes. Just to be sure, he cupped another handful to his face and let it trickle down his wrists and into the hair that nearly covered his eyes. He coughed and braced his hands on the counter to either side of the sink.  
   “What’s wrong with me?” he muttered.  
   “You got me,” said a voice behind him.  
   Keith instinctively pulled his knife from his belt and spun around. The tip of the Galra blade came within millimeters of Lance’s adam’s apple.   
   The blue paladin made a strangled sound and held up both hands. “Whoa, dude, it’s just me!”  
   Keith sighed and stowed the knife. “What do you want? I could have killed you.”  
   “Yeah, no, don’t do that. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His face took on an unusually sympathetic expression. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I mean, that’s not how the Keith _I_ know acts.”  
   The red paladin narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m going to channel Allura here and say it’s a nice gesture, but it’s none of your business.”  
   “Oh, come on,” Lance said, though his tone was anything but pleading. “What was that ‘bonding moment’ you were going on about? Whatever happened to that? You know, being friends and caring about each other’s feelings?”  
   Keith’s expression went flat. “You honestly expect me to believe you care about _my_ feelings?”  
   Lance shrugged. “Eh, I guess that’s a little much to ask, isn’t it?” Then he smirked. “But it might be nice to say there’s someone who understands how you feel.” He folded his arms. “At least we’ll have _something_ in common.”  
   Keith looked at the floor. “It…” He sighed. “It might take me a minute. I’m not good at this stuff.”  
   Lance scoffed. “And you think I am?”  
   “Yeah,” Keith said. “You’re Mr. Hopeless Romantic. If anyone on this team is really in touch with their feelings, it’s got to be you.”  
   Lance laughed under his breath and looked at Keith under his eyebrows. “Wrong again, Mullet.”  
   Keith looked surprised. “R-really?”  
   Lance gave him a dry look. “Ee-yeah, not going into detail there, dude.”  
   Keith smirked. “I guess that’s fair.” He picked his gloves up off the counter and began tugging them on again. Finally, he sighed and folded his arms. “Well, since you’re being so _unnaturally_ nice about it, I guess we can hash it out a little.”  
   Lance bit his tongue, preventing any potentially idiotic retort from coming out. He had gotten the answer he wanted. No need to stick his foot in his mouth now. “So, what’s going on upstairs, man?”  
   Keith leaned against the sink. “I don’t know. I don’t get feelings like this.”  
   “What do you mean, ‘don’t get them’?” Lance asked. “Like, you’ve never felt this way before, or you don’t understand it?”  
   “Both.”  
   Lance rolled his eyes. “Ugh. You’re no help.” He showed Keith his palms. “You gotta break it down for me, Keith.”  
   “Break it down?”  
   “Yeah. Explain to me exactly what got you feeling this way, and maybe then I’ll be able to tell you what’s going on.”  
   Keith sighed. “Fine.” He raised his shoulders defensively for a moment and looked at the floor, but the more he thought about it, the more open his stance became. “Maybe it was the music.”  
   “The music…?”  
   Keith shook his head. “No, not the music… not really.” The image of Shiro and Miela, seduced by the tango, flashed across his vision, and he felt his face heat up. “Shiro.” The name came out unbidden, and he covered his mouth.  
   Lance raised an eyebrow. “Shiro? What about him?”  
   Keith looked up at him. Lance didn’t seem to be judging him on that outburst, so he grudgingly went on. “You know he practically raised me, right?”  
   “I didn’t, but go on.”  
   The red paladin looked at the floor again. “I’ve never seen him like that. I mean, he had a girlfriend or two back then, but…” He shook his head. “I have literally never seen him so connected with anyone.” His shoulders went up around his ears. “That… watching them dance like that… It felt like…” His face continued to get redder. “Like they were…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have been watching. I should’ve left sooner. This is so embarrassing…” He covered his face with both hands.  
   “Are you ashamed of him?”  
   Keith looked up. “What? No! Of course not! I-it was just… disconcerting.”  
   Lance gave him a suspicious look. “Wait… do you have the hots for Shiro?”  
   “No. No! Geez! That’s not it at all!” In his embarrassment, he almost missed the fact that there was no judgement in Lance’s face.   
   “Then is it Miela?” That confirmed it. Lance didn’t care one way or the other.  
   Keith studied him a moment before answering. “I… I don’t know.”  
   “You don’t know? Either it’s him, it’s her, or it’s tango.”  
   “I don’t freaking know, man!” Keith showed him the palms of his hands, fingers clawed in frustration. “I like her, I know, but I never really thought about anything more than that. It just didn’t feel right, you know?”  
   “What do you mean, ‘it didn’t feel right’?”  
   “I’ve known her for two days!” Keith’s voice rose outside his ability to control. He took a breath and lowered his voice. “We all have. It… wouldn’t be fair to her.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s just tango.”  
   “Maybe?” Lance scoffed softly. “For the guardian spirit of fire, you sure are a prude.”  
   Keith’s voice rose again. “How can you be so calm about this? We just watched our _commanding officer_ basically have an _affair_ with a _stranger_!”  
   Lance lowered both eyebrows at him. “It’s a tango, man. It’s supposed to be like that.” He pressed his fingers to his chest in indication. “And I’m from Cuba, where tango is common. I’m used to it. Also, he’s unattached, so calling it an ‘affair’ is pretty harsh.” He made the air quotes with two fingers of each hand. Then his eyebrows lifted and came together in disappointment. “Why are you being so hard on him?”  
   Keith looked at Lance for a moment before he realized that his teammate was right. He was being hard on Shiro. “I… I don’t know,” he said, lowering his gaze. “I just had that image of him in my head for so long… seeing this new side of him…” He shook his head. “I just didn’t know it existed.”  
   A small, knowing smile crossed Lance’s lips. “Dude, you’re crazy if you think we don’t all have that side to us.”  
   “You don’t understand. I’m a paladin of Voltron. I never get like this. I _can’t_ get like this.” Keith looked at the floor.  
   Lance was quiet for a moment as worry slowly filtered into him. Then he folded his arms and leaned backward, into the wall. For a few ticks, he was quiet, studying his shoelaces. “When I first saw it,” he said, “I had no idea what I was looking at. I was little, maybe six or seven, at the time, but I knew then that whatever that was, out on the dance floor, I had to have it.” He smirked at the memory. “The man was nothing special, or so I thought. Men wear black. But the woman… dear gods, that woman. Red dress… her hair done up with hibiscus flowers… and a figure to make Aphrodite jealous. But she was so focused on him, this random old man in black… and all he did the entire time was make her _shine_.”  
   Keith looked up at him. A flash of red silk crossed his thoughts, as if, for one moment, he and the blue paladin were completely attuned. He could see the woman so clearly in his mind’s eye, dancing circles around an indistinct figure in black. She was thinner, more tanned, more severe-looking than Miela, but she spun once across Keith’s vision, and his heart skipped a beat. That’s when he knew. It wasn’t Shiro. It wasn’t Miela. It was the dance. It was the sex and the violence, the unabashed passion that pulsed in through the music and out from the dancers. Was that what he really wanted?  
   But Lance went on, pulling him out of his momentary reverie. “What if it were you and Miela?” he asked.  
   Keith thought about it. “I… probably wouldn’t know what to do.”  
   His teammate put his hands on his hips. “Well, Shiro does. Do you blame him?”  
   Shame flickered across Keith’s face, and he was quiet a moment longer. “No. I guess not.”  
   Lance sighed, and then rolled his eyes. He’d rubbed Keith’s nose in his embarrassment enough. Time to pull him back out of the mire and try to be a positive influence. “Listen, if it were you and Miela, she’d probably be nice enough to guide you through all the right moves.” He smirked sympathetically. “Why don’t you ask her?” Then he raised one confident eyebrow. “Or me.” He shrugged. “I mean, I could teach you, but Miela is admittedly prettier.”  
   But Keith continued to stare at the floor, ashamed of his own embarrassment.  
   Lance’s smile faded. He needed a softer touch. Miela could do it; why couldn’t he? He softened his tone, trying to make it sound velour and comforting, like she did. “You’re the paladin of _fire_ , Keith,” Lance said softly. “If anything, you could be better at tango than Shiro.”  
   The red paladin glanced up at him. “You really think so?”  
   Lance smirked. “Only one way to find out.”


	26. “Sway” - Dean Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge's wish comes true, and Keith discovers a little more about Miela... and makes a terrible, terrible mistake

   Shiro and Miela had finished their dance by the time Keith and Lance returned.  
   The black paladin glanced up as the two of them entered the room. “Where did you two run off to?” he asked. “You missed most of it.”  
   Keith spoke up before Lance could make it awkward. “Sorry,” he said. “I needed a breather.” He smiled a little at the two of them. “So?” he asked. “What’s the verdict?”  
   Shiro wiped the sweat from his temples. “Well, if her dancing is any indicator, I’d say we’re a pretty good match.”  
   Allura clapped her hands. “Excellent. On to phase two, then!”  
   “Phase two?” Miela asked. “I was not informed of phase two.”  
   Shiro looked at her. “Neither was I.”  
   The princess managed to look a little sheepish. “Well, that’s because I wasn’t sure either of you would agree to it…” She paused and looked around the room, but her team just stared at her. Finally, she gave a nervous chuckle and coughed. “I need to gauge Miela’s fighting skill.”  
   The woman in black sighed and pointed an accusing glare up at the control room. “Pidge…”  
   “I had nothing to do with this, I swear,” the girl blurted into the microphone.  
   Miela turned the look toward Hunk.  
   He waved his hands at her. “Uh-uh. Don’t look at me, either. If Allura suggested it, she came up with it herself.”  
   Shiro rubbed the back of his head. “Well, since I’m probably going to be the guinea pig for this next experiment too, can I suggest we do this after we’ve had a break?”  
   Allura arched one eyebrow at him. “What’s a guinea pig?”  
   Pidge supplied her with context. “They’re rodents that Earth scientists used to use for scientific experiments.”  
   The princess’ face bent up in disgust. “Ugh. That sounds gruesome.” She looked at Shiro. “Then, yes, I suppose a recess is in order.” She held up a finger. “But we should reconvene as soon as is feasible. Tonight, after dinner, perhaps?”  
   Miela let out a tired sigh. “Fine.”  
   Having made those tentative plans, Allura turned to leave.  
   Shiro got Miela’s attention with a gentle touch on her arm. “You should get some rest,” he said softly. “She won’t want me to go easy on you.”  
   Miela smirked at him. “Is that what you were trying to accomplish with playing ‘Libertango’?” she asked.  
   He laughed under his breath again. “No, I’m ashamed to say Lance was right. I was just trying to show off.”  
   She smiled. “I can’t really blame you. I’ve been known to do the same thing.” The young woman tucked a wayward strand of her fringe behind her ear, and for the first time, Shiro noticed that there was a small section of much shorter hair hidden beneath it, against her parietal bone. She smoothed her fingers along it, though, and quickly hid it again. “I appreciate your honesty.”  
   If only Shiro could hide his white hair like that. He clenched his fist to keep himself from imitating the gesture. His smile faltered for a moment as he reflected upon how perilously alike they were. Then he smirked again. He lifted his hand off her arm. He wanted to follow those dainty fingers through her hair, around the crest of her ear, to reveal that little patch of vulnerability that matched his. Something pinched his chest, though, and he stopped and lowered his hand. “Let me know if you need anything. See you at dinner?”  
   “Sure.” She had seen it, whatever it was. He knew because suddenly, her face took on that girlish shyness again.  
   Quiznak. She was so perceptive, wasn’t she?  
   Shiro took in a deep breath and attempted to fold those feelings up and put them back on the top shelf where they belonged. He let his smile fade, and then turned and left the training room.  
   Lance and Keith watched him go, and then the blue paladin turned and nudged his teammate. “You gonna ask her or not?”  
   “Okay, fine! I’m going!” Keith stalked up to Miela, without realizing how many volumes of emotions his posture was dictating to her. She followed him with her eyes until he was within arm’s reach, where the red paladin heaved a sigh and finally drew himself up to his full height. When he stood up straight, he actually was taller than her by a few inches. He had forgotten, somehow. Was that how big her personality really was? He cleared his throat. “Miela.”  
   She granted him a slightly suppressed smile, as if she knew he was being pressured into something. “Hi, Keith.” She glanced around him at Lance, who gave her two thumbs up from across the room. She made an educated guess at what that meant. “Did you want to dance?”  
   “I…” His shoulders slumped a little. “…don’t really know how.”  
   Miela stifled a laugh behind her hand. “That’s all right. I can teach you, if you want.”  
   He brightened a little. “Y-yeah.”  
   “All right.” She wrapped her left hand around to his shoulder. “I hear your footwork is pretty good, so let’s start with something moderate. Let’s do rumba.”  
   “Rumba?” asked Pidge’s voice over the intercom. “Okay, you’ve lost me there.”  
   Miela flicked her gaze upward, and then refocused on Keith. It’s a three-step, like waltz, but it’s in four beats.”  
   Keith raised an eyebrow at her. “How do you manage that?”  
   “Your first step is two beats. Follow me. Ready?” She exerted a light pressure on the palm of his right hand. “Backward on your right, then to the side… and bring your feet together.”  
   “Exactly like waltz.”  
   She nodded. “Exactly like it.” She smiled. “Ready? Again. Slow, quick-quick, slow, quick-quick.” She suddenly started counting to four. “One- two, three, four, one- two…”  
   Keith lost the count and looked down.  
   “Don’t look at your feet, look at me!” She jostled his shoulders and forced him back into the beat. Her words were crimson, and that snapping reprimand broke him open like a shucking knife in an oyster shell. How did she do that?  
   Once he could follow her commands, she stopped and looked up. “Pidge, are you bored yet?”  
   “I don’t get bored,” she replied. “What’s up?”  
   “Can you play ‘Sway’?”  
   Pidge hummed while she searched for the song. “Which one?”  
   “Dean Martin. The others are closer to cha-cha.”  
   “Okay. Here you go.”   
   Percussive choir and guitar raised the hair on the back of Keith’s neck.  
   Miela lowered her gaze in thought, which landed her line of sight right in the middle of his chest. Keith felt his face flush, but Miela apparently took no notice. She then made a back-and-forth motion with one forefinger. “Okay, think you can do that backwards?”  
   “You mean, left foot forward on the downbeat?”  
   “Yeah.”  
   He offered her that confident half-smirk. “No problem.” He stepped into her on his left foot and wrapped his right arm around her.  
   She gave him a matching grin. “Let’s see how good you are, then,” she purred. She let him get close, stepping back on her right foot to match his forward lean.  
   With only his hand on her back, Keith guided her through several box steps before she finally offered him her right hand, and put her left on his shoulder.  
   “Very good,” she acknowledged softly. “Are you just trying to outdo Lance?” She cut her eyes up at him with a wry smile.  
   “That’s not really my _modus operandi_ ,” said Keith. There was a hint of laughter under his voice. “That’s pretty much a Lance thing.”  
   Miela raised an eyebrow at him. “A one-sided rivalry?” She harrumphed. “That’s… quaint.”  
   Keith let out a low laugh. “Yeah, I know.” He looked down at Miela. “You ever do that kind of thing?”  
   She let out a quick breath, what might have been a laugh, though Keith wasn’t entirely sure. “My sister and I did that all the time.”  
   “Which one were you?” Keith asked. He could feel her slowly relinquishing control to him, beginning to trust in the direction and balance of his steps.  
   “Between you and Lance?” she asked. “You, probably.” She lowered her gaze between his collar bones again. “It took my leaving Earth to realize how much I loved her… and how much I pushed her away.” Sadness put a crease between her brows.  
   Keith swayed them to a gentle stop. He remembered what Lance had said about her, but she felt so close now. “Miela.”  
   She looked up at him, hazel washing into green as her gaze met his.  
   He’d hate himself if he didn’t try. He tilted his head down, until his nose brushed hers.  
   “Keith.”  
   He stopped and looked her in the eyes.  
   “You know I can’t.” She looked down, at the floor this time, and released his left hand. She easily turned out from under his right hand and walked out of the training room, leaving Keith standing there, staring after her.  
   “Dude!” Lance objected once she had gone. “What the heck was that?”  
   Keith’s eyebrows came together in disappointment. “I… I thought it was a bonding moment.”  
   The blue paladin shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”


	27. “Valse Mélancolique” -  Vladimir Rebikov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro sends Hunk on a mission to rescue Miela's trust.

   Miela did not come to dinner, which was a pity because Hunk had done his best to recreate pasta Bolognese.  
   “Where is she?” Shiro asked. “If we’re going to have training after this, she should probably have something to eat.”  
   The rest of the table was awkwardly silent.  
   Allura lowered her eyebrows in an annoyed glower. After a few more ticks, she set her spork down, still half-spun with strings of pasta and sauce. “All right, is there something going on that I don’t know about?”  
   Halfway down the table, Keith sighed and spoke up. “It’s my fault. I did something stupid.”  
   Shiro raised his eyebrows at him. “Like what?”  
   Keith gently pushed his plate backward, propped his arms on the table, and hid his face in both hands.  
   Allura’s face bent up in worry. “Oh, no… Keith, you didn’t.”  
   “Yeah, I did.”  
   Shiro looked down the table at Allura. “What?” Then he looked at Keith. “What happened?”  
   Keith dragged his fingers down the length of his face. “You know that rapport you said I built with her?” he asked.  
   “Yeah…”  
   “I think I screwed it up.”  
   Shiro’s eyes took on a look of shock. “Keith, how?” He looked around at the rest of the paladins, who were all staring at their plates. “And why am I getting a really bad feeling about this?” He stood up. “Coran, can you get me one of those hover-plates?”  
   “Certainly.”  
   Shiro glanced from face to face. “Is there anyone at this table who hasn’t made her mad yet?”  
   Lance raised a hand. “To be fair, I don’t think any of us actually made her mad.”  
   Shiro shot him a glare. “That’s not an answer, Lance. And I’m counting you out. Anyone else?”  
   Pidge and Hunk both solemnly raised their hands.  
   The black paladin closed his eyes and forced down a calming breath. “All right. Hunk, you’re up.” His expression softened. “See if she’ll eat something, at least.”  
   “I might actually be able to do that,” the big man said with a wan smile.  
   Shiro jerked his head over his shoulder. “Hop to it.”  
   “Yup.” Hunk bolted from his seat after Coran.  
   Several doboshes later, Hunk found himself wondering how he had gotten roped into this mess. He pushed the hover-plate, laden with food, down the hall toward her room, muttering to himself all the way.  
   “Should’ve known Lance had something to do with this. But why push _Keith_ into it? He never would have done this on his own. Or would he? No, Lance never would have suggested _that_ ; he’s too possessive. Maybe it was about dancing, and Keith just got carried away…?” He smiled and put one fist decisively in his palm. “That’s got to be it.” He looked up at Miela’s door. “Maybe it’s not too late, after all.” He cleared his throat and knocked.  
   There was no answer. Wasn’t there a way to leave a message? He couldn’t remember. He looked at the door panel, but couldn’t remember which button to press. “Uh, Miela?” he said to the door. “I don’t know if you can hear me, or… if you’re even in there, but I…” He stopped and looked at the floor, and then remembered the plate. “I-I brought you some food. We missed you at dinner.”  
   Still no answer.  
   Hunk sighed. “Listen, I know Lance has made a move already, and that’s pretty much par for the course, but I really didn’t think Keith had that kind of guts.” He laughed humorlessly, shoulders already drooping in defeat. “I guess that’s kinda dumb, isn’t it? The paladin of fire without guts. B-but I honestly don’t know what came over him, back there. He’s never done that before. Anyway, he really seems torn up over it. He’s so worried he’s alienated you. I know if you just talk to him, he’ll apologize to you, and honor whatever decision you make.” He sighed. “No matter what, Miela, he wants to be your friend.”  
   The door stayed closed.  
   Well, he could say he tried. He turned around, and a figure in his path spooked him. He yelped and leaped backward.  
   It was Miela, clad in her bathrobe, with her towel draped around her neck. Her hair and skin were damp, as if she had just come from the bath.  
   “Oh, it’s you!” Hunk said sheepishly. “S-so you weren’t in there after all.” He laughed nervously. “Were you listening the entire time? Because it would be nice if I didn’t just make a complete fool of myself.”  
   She glanced over at the plate of food he had brought with him, and then studied him blankly for a moment.  
   That seemed to make Hunk even more nervous. “Can I get just a couple words to take back with me?” he asked quickly, his voice high with tension. “And then I’ll leave you alone.”  
   Miela’s look softened almost imperceptibly. She brushed past him and opened her door. “Wait here,” she replied. She turned to close the door and offered him a third word. “Please.” And then the door closed.  
   Hunk waited outside her door for a mere three doboshes before she opened the door again. Her hair was still wet, but it had been combed, and she had put on her black suit.  
   “Come in.”  
   She didn’t seem angry. Hunk pushed the plate of food into her room as she sat down on her bunk.  
   “Do you… want me to leave?”  
   She looked up at him. “No, not really. If you have something to do, though, I wouldn’t keep you.”  
   Hunk touched the tips of his index fingers together shyly. “That’s really nice of you.” He lowered his chin to his chest and looked up at her from under his brow bones. “So… you’re not mad?”  
   “No. I’m not mad. I just needed a little time to think.” She pulled the hover-plate down to table-level in front of her. “It smells wonderful.”  
   Hunk rubbed the back of his head and gave her a puzzled stare. “That’s… very mature of you.”  
   She chuckled. “I’m not sure why you all thought I would be mad.”  
   “Well,” Hunk answered, “you can cut the tension with a knife, it’s so thick right now.” He shrugged. “Most of us figured that all it would take would be something stupid like that to ruin any chances we might’ve had at being allies. When you didn’t show at dinner, that kind of cemented it.”  
   Miela sucked in the tail end of a noodle and licked sauce from one corner of her mouth. “How old is Shiro?” she asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.  
   “Uh… In his twenties, I think. Twenty-five, maybe?”  
   She twirled another bite of pasta on the tip of her spork. “And how old is Pidge?” She took another bite.  
   “Fourteen.”  
   “If this is your attempt at Bolognese, I’m extremely impressed,” she noted. She looked up at him. “So that would put you, Lance, Keith, and Princess Allura somewhere in between those two figures. Am I correct?”  
   “Yeah, actually.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What does that have to do with anything?”  
   “Most everything,” she replied. “Being a teenager is hard, and you paladins have it harder than most. It would not be right of me to judge all of you based on the whims of one or two teenage boys.” She nodded her head to one side. “Teenage boys under duress, at that.” She slid another bite into her mouth.  
   Hunk lowered his eyebrows at her. “You say that as if you’re not a teenager.”  
   She swallowed her mouthful and glanced up at him. “Very perceptive of you.” She scooped up a spork full of meat sauce. “If my math is right, I haven’t been for a few years, but I’m not sure how correct that is.”  
   The big man’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “Y-you’re an _adult_? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”  
   She cocked her head. “What would that have mattered?” she asked. “I need my actions to speak for me. Telling someone my age just allows them to dictate how I should act.”  
   Hunk sighed. “Okay, yeah, I see your point. But still! Letting on that you’re in your twenties would almost automatically have put Lance and Keith off.”  
   She gave him a wry look. “That hasn’t been my experience.”  
   “What?” He gave her a flat look.  
   “I’m from Italy, Hunk,” she explained with a laugh. “Italian men can be very persistent, even from a young age.” She touched her right hand to her mouth and attempted to hide her laughter behind her spork. “I mean, once, I was proposed to by a six-year-old.”  
   Hunk’s look of shock turned to amazement, and then to adoration. “Aw, that’s cute!”  
   Miela nodded and chuckled before refocusing on her dinner. “No, if anything, I think I should be flattered that Lance and Keith think so highly of me.” She deftly spun the spork between her fingers and lifted a perfect spiral of pasta to her mouth. “I just don’t want to cause trouble.” She finally set her utensil down and licked the corner of her mouth again. “I promised both Princess Allura and Shiro that I wouldn’t be the cause of a rift among you.”  
   Hunk let worry cloud his soft features. “Do you really think that’s possible?”  
   “Absolutely.” She sighed. “What worries me is that… it may be even more likely that I drive a wedge between myself and your team.” She smiled up at him. “That’s why I’ve been trying to be careful. I like you guys, and I need your help. I can’t afford to lose that relationship.” She sighed and looked down at her nearly empty plate. “May I be honest for a moment?”  
   Hunk folded his arms. “Of course. I thought you _were_ being honest.”  
   Miela nodded. “I sense something brewing between your princess and one of your fellow paladins. I’m not sure what, exactly, but it’s there.”  
   “Let me guess. You mean Keith.”  
   She flicked her eyes up at him in surprise. “Y-yes! How did you know?”  
   Hunk rolled his eyes and sighed. “This has been a long time coming.” His eyes landed on Miela again. “You should probably ask Keith, but I can give you a little background. You’ve heard of Altea, right?”  
   Miela shook her head. “Not before I was welcomed aboard, why?”  
   “That was Princess Allura’s home planet. The Galra destroyed it ten thousand years ago.”  
   The woman narrowed one eye at him. “And that has something to do with her relationship with Keith?”  
   Hunk averted his gaze. “Yeah. I’m going to ask that you talk to him for details, though.” He gave her a sly smirk. “While we’re being honest, you _could_ tell me your mission plans.”  
   Miela chuckled. “I could, but I think it would break you if you knew.” She bent toward him and whispered to him. “And after that, I’d have to swear you to secrecy.”  
   “Aw, not fair!” Hunk pouted. “What’s the point of having a mission goal you can’t share with your teammates?”  
   Miela laughed under her breath. “You really don’t understand why I keep it a secret, do you?”  
   “No, I don’t.”  
   Miela stood up and pushed the platter back in his direction. “The simple reason is that I don’t want my mission to suddenly take precedence over yours. It’s important to me, but it wouldn’t be important to the Voltron paladins for the same reasons.” She smiled sadly at him. “I didn’t want to unduly influence the urgency or the potential outcomes of our return to Aepsis. As it stands, I need to make a return trip. I have in my possession a unique asset, one which makes me the _only_ candidate for such a mission.” She shook her head. “I could trust no one else.”  
   Hunk studied her for a few ticks, and then sighed heavily. “No offense, Miela, but that has the potential to be the biggest wedge you drive between yourself and us.”  
   “I know.” She placed a hand on his arm. “But I promise, once everything is in place, I’ll reveal it all.”  
   “All right. Fine. But that still leaves me with one question you _could_ answer.”  
   “What’s that?”  
   Hunk smirked at her. “What year were you born?”


	28. “The Ballad of Mona Lisa” - Panic! At the Disco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro steps out of character and takes things a little too personally, and Allura asks for advice.

   “Well, that wasn’t as depressing as I thought it would be.” Miela led the yellow paladin back down the hall toward the kitchen.  
   Hunk let out a breathless squeak and plodded along behind her, still dumbfounded.  
   “Oh, lighten up, Hunk,” she said. “You now have every opportunity to tease Lance and Keith for making passes at an older woman.”  
   Hunk came out of his daze. “You’re right, but that’s not really fair to you.”  
   Miela looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, I don’t care. Age is a number, to me.”  
   Hunk shook his head. “No, I mean, you’re really not that much older than us.”  
   Miela brushed her hair behind her ear. “Well, no, I guess not.” She smirked at Hunk. “Still, I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they find out.” She and Hunk shared a chuckle at the prospect and walked into the kitchen together.  
   Almost immediately, they were gently wedged apart by a tall figure in black. Shiro parted them and left the kitchen without a word.  
   Miela turned and called after him, but he didn’t answer. She turned around again and studied the remaining faces in the room. “What happened?” she asked. She spotted Pidge helping Keith up off the floor. “What did I just miss?”  
   Allura turned and looked at her, sadness in her eyes. “You didn’t mean for this to happen, did you?”  
   “What?” A glisten of panic appeared in her eyes. “Someone tell me what’s going on!”  
   The princess’ eyes widened as she soon realized Miela was completely lost. She sighed. “Shiro… needs a moment.” She took the woman by the arm, but looked up at Hunk. “Hunk, can you go help the others, please?”  
   “Sure,” he said slowly. There was a question in his voice, but he obeyed, wandering off into the kitchen to help clean up the emotional mess they had left behind.  
Once he was gone, Miela turned to the princess. “Allura, what-?”  
   “Sh!” Allura quickly cupped her other hand over Miela’s mouth. “No more. Not another word. Not here.” Her grip on Miela’s arm tightened, and she pulled her out of the kitchen and down the hall, opposite the direction Shiro had gone.  
   After turning several different corners, Miela had to ask. “Where are we going?”  
   “Out of earshot.” She opened a door and pulled the woman in black in after her.  
   Inside the room, it was dead silent. Not even the hum of the castle ship’s engines could be heard.  
   “Where are we?” Miela asked. She stopped in surprise. She had felt herself say the words, but her voice refused to make noise. She looked at the princess, who was busy placing a small device in each ear. She then passed a set of the little earpieces to Miela, and the young woman began quickly putting them in her own ears. They didn’t fit perfectly to the small, round protrusions, but she held them against the sides of her head anyway.  
   “Is that better?” Allura’s voice asked clearly.  
   “Where are we?” Miela asked again. Her voice was tense and fearful. “Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”  
   “This is a quiet room,” said Allura. “We’re here because I need your complete and utter honesty.”  
   Miela let her frustration come to life, in her voice and in her body. “I’ve _been_ honest with you! I’ve never lied to you, or willfully omitted any pertinent information!”  
   “What is pertinent is now for me to decide.” Allura lowered her chin and locked Miela in a piercing gaze. “Who are you?”  
   Miela shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “W-what? What is this about?”  
   “Please,” said Allura, and for a moment, she really sounded like she was begging. “Please answer me honestly.”  
   “I don’t know what you want me to say,” Miela insisted. “If this is an interrogation, you should know better than to ask broad questions like that.”  
   “I had hoped it wouldn’t be an interrogation.” Allura sighed. “If I tell you what happened, will you tell me if you had anything to do with it?”  
   “Of course I would. I promised you I would.”  
   A hopeful smile crossed the Altean woman’s lips. “That… actually makes me feel better.” She sighed. “Please understand, Shiro is very protective of his crew. When Keith told him that he and Lance had both made advances toward you, he became… _infuriated_.” She looked at the floor. “I… I’ve never seen him like that. And I’ve seen Shiro be angry before.” She looked at Miela. “I brought you here because I need your advice, more than anything.”  
   “What could I give you?” Miela asked. “I don’t know the man.”  
   Allura folded her arms. “You have the experience, or you wouldn’t have been so gentle with Lance and Keith.”  
   Miela smirked. “That’s certainly true.” The smile faded. “How can I help?”  
   The princess looked conflicted for a moment. “You said you had been in romantic trouble before. I know this question is subjective, but do you feel it is possible that you are the cause of this infighting?”  
   Miela looked at the floor. “I should have known…” She sighed. “Yes, it is possible. I hope you believe me when I tell you it was not my intent.” She gave the princess a tired smile. “I gave them no reason to quarrel. I expressed my intentions clearly, and have drawn my lines just as clearly. What Lance and Keith did, they did of their own volition. I did not guide their hands.” Sadness sank onto her face. “If I had to guess why Shiro is angry…” She shook her head. “No, I… I’d rather not. I don’t wish to think poorly of him.”  
   “Please,” said Allura. Miela looked up at her. “I value your opinion on the matter. You and Pidge are the only other women I can turn to for such opinions.”  
   “Well, what would Pidge tell you?” the woman asked.  
   The princess considered the thought for a moment. “She would be… and is… confused, hurt, that someone she trusts is acting like this. He’s lashing out, for some reason.” She glanced at Miela. “Even if he says he’s acting in the interests of the team, she would probably come to the conclusion that he’s behaving like a child.”  
   Miela sighed. “That was the opinion I wasn’t sure I wanted to voice.” She looked up at Allura. “Do you know what a ‘devil’s advocate’ is?”  
   Allura narrowed both eyes. “I can derive meaning from the term… To play out a conversation where one of us acts as a hypothetical proxy for a… _disagreeable_ party.”  
   She nodded. “A very textbook definition.” She locked Allura in a firm gaze. “Let me play devil’s advocate for a moment. Lance and Keith have both made their passes, and have both been turned away.” She shrugged. “At the very least, it means that they like me, and romantic feelings have the perceived potential to develop. What this means for Shiro is the threat of unnecessary competition in the ranks: competition between the red and blue paladins, and competition between him and me. This can present several problems, as you well know. As an absolute worst-case scenario, Shiro will be fighting to maintain his position as leader of the Voltron force, and that’s completely disregarding his being the pilot of the black lion.”  
   “But you said you weren’t interested in taking over his position.”  
   “I did. But what good is my word if he doesn’t believe it? Or worse, if he believes his team would rather follow me?” She went on. “This presents the issue of Shiro pushing the team harder than is really warranted, and can in turn make his actions look childish.”  
   The princess looked up at her. “And that’s the worst-case scenario?”  
   “My version of it.”  
   Allura caught on to some microscopic expression in her face, and narrowed her eyes. “But that’s not what worries you.”  
   Miela sighed. “No. Not… considering my history.”  
   The princess realized with a start what she meant. “You’re worried he might be _jealous_!”  
   “Precisely.”  
   “But…” Allura stared at her, wide-eyed. “You mentioned before that you were returning to Aepsis for someone special.”  
   “I did. If you wish to inform Shiro and the others that he is my lover or my spouse, you may. Perhaps that would alleviate the tension.” She looked away. “It wouldn’t be true, but it could still help.”  
   Allura looked at the floor. Miela was willing to do whatever she could to keep the team from falling apart, wasn’t she? Even at the expense of her dignity. But Allura couldn’t reconcile lying to her paladins or using Miela like that, even if it meant that the quarreling would stop. She sighed. “He’ll be harder on you, now.”  
   Miela looked up at her. “He’s still planning on sparring with me?”  
   Allura nodded.   
   “He won’t use cheap tricks, will he?”  
   “No. No, he wouldn’t.” Allura met her gaze. “Only his full strength.”  
   Miela sighed. “I can accept that.”


	29. “Clair de Lune” - Claude Debussy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge and Lance help Miela prepare for her match against Shiro. Shiro still has no idea what to make of Miela, and that might finally be affecting his judgement.

   Allura made the suggestion that each of the younger paladins should stand at intervals along the circular wall of the training deck, while she and Coran judged the outcome of the match from the control room. The four of them could move freely around its perimeter, ask each other questions and compare notes, so that they could be better-educated viewers. But no matter what, she warned them, the four of them were not to interfere.  
   The woman in black stood in the center of the room, hands folded, eyes studying her fingers.  
   “Are you okay?”  
   Miela looked up at Pidge, but didn’t hold her gaze for long. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t think I am.” She let out a laugh under her breath, because she couldn’t think of anything else to do. “My hands are shaking.”  
   “Mine would be too, if I were about to do what you’re doing.”  
   Miela nervously laced her fingers. “I’m certain I have never faced a tougher opponent.”  
   Pidge smirked. “Well, don’t let on. I’ll put on some music, and that’ll help you synchronize your breathing.” She pulled out her player and a set of close-fitting human-shaped ear devices.  
   Miela’s shaking stopped for a moment. She smiled. “You’d do that for me?” She took the proffered earphones. “Pidge… That’s really sweet of you.” She gently positioned them around each ear. “They fit really well.”  
   The girl shrugged. “I got tired of holding the Altean ones up to my head, and the ones I used to use at home just kept falling out of my ears. So I modified a few sets for my personal use.” She gave Miela a sly smirk. “What do you want me to play?”  
   Miela thought about it for a moment. “Right now, I’d love to hear the Debussy ‘Clair de Lune’.”  
   Pidge pulled it up, and soft piano music filtered into the earpieces.  
   Miela gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”  
   “What about for the match?” Pidge asked, lowering the volume so that Miela could hear her.  
   “Do you have anything in twelve-eight?” the woman asked.  
   “Huh?” Lance reached over and plucked the device out of Pidge’s hands. “Hey!”  
   Lance held her away with one hand. “Try describing a compound time signature to someone who barely understands common time.” He sighed. “You’re biting off more than you can chew, Miela.”  
   “I think I noticed.”  
   Lance turned and looked at Pidge, who was still straining against his outstretched hand. “What’s that one song you listen to all the time?”  
   Pidge stopped and finally leaned away from him. “Which one?”  
   “Summer- something.”  
   “Oh. You mean ‘Sommarfågel’.” Lance handed her the player, and she scrolled through her options. “The longest version is about four doboshes long. Think that’ll be long enough?” She looked at Miela, who didn’t answer. “So it’s twelve beats per bar?”  
   “Y-yes,” Miela said in awe. “But I don’t think this is the time to discuss it. If Shiro doesn’t completely destroy me, we can talk about it later, if you’re still interested.”  
   Pidge’s expression bent into a look of concern. “I… I hope he doesn’t.”  
   “Pidge?”  
   The girl looked up at her. “I don’t want either of you getting hurt,” she said. “But I want you to do your best, okay?”  
   “I’ll have to,” Miela replied.  
   The doors opened, then, and Shiro stepped into the room. Everyone looked up at him, and the training deck went silent for a split tick.  
   Then Pidge looked up at Miela and whispered, “Good luck,” and trotted back to her position against the wall.  
   Lance patted her shoulder once, and returned to his assigned position.  
   Miela took a deep breath and straightened her form, intent upon looking calmer than she really felt. “I thought for a moment that you might not come,” she said as he approached.  
   How could she have that tone of voice, he thought. Why did she have to sound concerned and caring? He bristled. “I told Princess Allura I would be here,” he said curtly. “And, since I’ve thought about it a bit more, perhaps it would do us good to have it out right here.” He turned and leveled a stern look at her.  
   Maybe it should have scared Miela, but for some reason she felt a little reassured by the look. He didn’t hate her. He might be jealous or bitter, but he wouldn’t strike any blows that created any lasting damage.  
   Allura’s voice resounded through the room. “Shiro, I urge you to keep in mind that this is not a contest.”  
   “If there’s a winner and a loser, it’s a contest,” Shiro said tersely.  
   Miela shot him a disapproving look. “You are supposed to be testing my abilities,” she reminded him. “I don’t stand to gain anything by pitting myself against you.”  
   “Is that how you really see it?” he asked. Ah. There it was. A tang of snide self-assurance.  
   Miela answered without hesitating. “Yes, it really is.”  
   His eyebrows went up ever so slightly. Was that doubt, all of a sudden?  
   “There are rules to this scrimmage,” said Allura. Miela and Shiro looked up, toward the sound of her voice. “This match will have an unlimited time interval, during which the opponents will try to force one another to submit, using the methods at their disposal. There will be no weapons; this is strictly a hand-to-hand engagement. Lethal or potentially lethal blows are out of the question. Use of even one such move will be grounds to forfeit the match. The first to gain submission from his or her opponent wins the match.” She paused.  
   “It’s a dogfight,” said Shiro.  
   “It had better not be,” Miela murmured. She really, really didn’t want to do this. She glanced across the room and nodded at Pidge, who began playing the fast, sweet music box tones through the earpieces.  
   “Ready?”  
   Shiro’s eyes came down on Miela’s face. She had closed her eyes for a brief moment, and let out a slow breath. She times her breathing. He had forgotten. Maybe he could use that, somehow… Her eyes flashed open again, meeting his and turning his universe emerald green for a moment. His heart skipped a beat, breaking off his train of thought. How _dare_ she?  
   “Begin!”  
   Her knees bent just slightly, and she rushed him.


	30. “Sommarfågel” - Wintergatan (Bassnectar remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An otherwise ordinary sparring match goes pretty badly awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: screaming, choke hold/ joint manipulation, severe burns. This is a fight, people. It ain't pretty.

   Even Keith had to admit he was impressed by the woman’s agility. She slid easily under Shiro’s first haymaker, and skidded into perfect position to sweep his legs out from under him. But the black paladin sprang away, refusing to be taken down so easily.  
   The red paladin folded his arms and hummed.  
   “Okay,” said Pidge as she sidled up to him. “What am I looking at, exactly?”  
   He glanced at her. “Depends on whose viewpoint you’re taking.” He pointed into the ring. “To her, it’s a test. But she’s evading a lot more than she’s striking. Watch.”  
   Pidge watched for several ticks, and seemed to realize Keith was right. Then Miela did something that looked unusual. She came in close to Shiro, put her left thumb in the bend between his collar bones, and pushed. Shiro made a strangled sound and backed up two steps. “But… wait, what was that?”  
   “That was a reprimand. You heard Shiro say something about this being a dogfight?”  
   “Yeah.”  
   “That means he’s angry. He’ll follow the rules, but he won’t be gentle. So every once in a while, when he gets too rough, you’ll see her use a move like that; one that makes him back up or overstep. It’s a warning; one that says, ‘Remember what you’re supposed to be doing. Don’t underestimate me’.” He smirked at her. “The music was a good idea, Pidge. It’s keeping her calm and focused, and keeping her from becoming emotionally invested.”  
   Pidge looked up at him. “You do that all the time.”  
   He sighed. “Yeah, I do. Which is why Shiro’s a much better fighter than me.” He suddenly looked disappointed. “At least… he was until today.”  
   Lance folded his arms. “Is it just me, or does it kind of look like she’s leading him around in circles?”  
   Keith glanced down the wall at him. “I don’t think it’s just you. Not only that, but her circles are getting smaller. Either she’s getting tired, or she’s got a plan.”  
   Both were true. It was getting harder for Miela to force her breathing along with the beat of the music. If she was going to do something, it would have to be soon. Shiro threatened her with a punch that had been aimed at the center of her chest. Foul play, she thought, and brought the edge of her right hand down on the meat of his forearm.  
   Shiro growled and spun away, and shook the tingling out of his fingers. She had hit a pressure point; he couldn’t close his left hand properly. He shook his hand again and looked up at her. She was sweating, her fine auburn hair plastered to her face and neck, but her breathing was still regular and slow. That’s when the thought came back to him. He flicked his eyes down at her chest as it rose and fell in rhythm. She times her breathing. Disrupt it.  
   He launched himself at her, injured left hand extended to grab what he could of her uniform. If he could hold her still long enough to strike her ribs, he could win the match.  
   Shiro’s fingers tangled in her damp hair and grasped the bulk of her collar. His thumb hit something hard, and pain shot up his arm. He made a sound in his throat and clenched his teeth, but it didn’t stop him. He drew back his right arm to hammer her ribs.  
   Miela grabbed his left arm and twisted into him, raising her elbow into his jawline. The rise of her figure sent his punch off track, into the flat muscle of her belly.  
   She didn’t expect the pain to be that _sharp_. Her knees went out from under her, and she folded both her arms protectively over her stomach while Shiro stumbled backward.  
   “Miela!” Lance cried out.  
   Shiro recovered his balance and looked over at the woman. She was hugging herself, her rhythmic breathing now disrupted and choppy. He took a cautious step toward her. Was she ready to give up?  
   “Uh-oh,” Keith mumbled.  
   “What?” Pidge asked. “What am I not seeing?”  
   “Look at her feet,” he said softly. Pidge looked. “Her toes are tucked under.”  
   “What does that mean?”  
   Keith shook his head ever so slightly. “If I’m right, that’s _suwariwaza_.”  
   Shiro stared down at the woman, still gasping for air. “So?” he asked, breathlessly.  
   She looked up at him, defiance turning her eyes brighter than he had ever seen them. She held her breath, trying to get back into her rhythm. “No.”  
   He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re done. Know when to give up.”  
   “No.”  
   Shiro gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to stop until you do.”  
   “Then do it,” she demanded. “Strike me down, right here. I know you want to.”  
   “What’s _swari_ \- whatsit?” Lance asked.  
   Hunk answered. “I know this one. It means ‘seated technique’.”  
   Keith nodded. “Either she had planned to fall down, or she’s a lot more resourceful than I thought.”  
   Miela raised herself a little straighter. “Do it!” she screamed.  
   Shiro felt his emotions cave in, rage filling him until he could no longer see straight. He aimed a wild punch at her with the alien prosthetic.  
   By the time he realized he had missed, it was too late. The next thing he knew, he was on his back, with her on top of him, her right foot by his head, her left knee under his right arm.  
   “No!” he grunted. He knew what was happening now. He could see where this was going; his vision was unmercifully clear. He wrapped his left arm over her leg and tried to use that as leverage to aim a right-handed punch at her face.  
   It was no use. She clapped both arms over his prosthetic and secured it against her chest by grabbing the fabric of her suit.  
   “No!” He raised up, pulling her several inches off the floor, but that only seemed to encourage her to lock her legs around his neck. He lost his balance and returned to the floor with a flop.  
   Pidge turned to the red paladin. “Keith! What just happened?”  
   “She’s got him,” Keith answered. “That’s _sankaku_ , the ‘triangle’. There are only three ways out of that pin, and Shiro won’t be willing to use any of them.”  
   “What are they?” Lance asked.  
   “You can…”  
   He stopped as Shiro let out a strangled cry. Miela was pulling backward on his arm, pushing her hips against his elbow.  
   “You can pass out,” Keith continued, counting slowly. “You can dislocate your shoulder… Or you can submit.”  
   But there was a fourth option, it seemed. As Miela continued to gently torque her hips forward, into Shiro’s elbow, something in the metal arm recognized the imminent threat to its integrity. It shimmered once, fingers flexed straight, and began to glow purple.  
   Miela let out an ear-splitting shriek.  
   Shiro woke up then. The anger inside his chest burst like a water balloon, dousing the ire and chilling him to the core. His winning or losing no longer mattered. This was not supposed to happen! He had _hurt_ her, and in a way he had hoped never to hurt anybody. He urgently slapped his left hand twice against her knee in submission.  
   She responded to the touch and released him, and began pulling desperately at the burning neckline of her suit.  
   “Miela!” As Shiro rolled away from the screaming woman and pushed himself up on his hands, a streak of red bolted past him, into the training ground. Keith had already unsheathed his knife and had begun barking orders across the room. “Lance, get her hands!” He dropped to one knee beside the woman in black and pulled the half-melted material away from her skin.  
   “On it!” Lance was close behind him, and skidded to his knees next to her head. “Grab on and don’t let go ’til I say to, okay?” She reached up and tangled her fingers in his, and he gently lifted her head and pulled her into his lap. It was there that she stopped screaming.  
   Pidge and Hunk hurried onto the training ground after them to help pick Shiro up.  
   Keith’s hands were scalded red, but he pulled the synthetic fabric away from Miela’s skin and slid the knife under it.  
   “P-please,” Miela cried, shifting her head away from the burning sensation. Tears ran across her nose and down the other side of her face, where they disappeared into the fabric of Lance’s jeans.  
   That was all Keith needed. The Galra blade slid through her suit with barely a sound, threads parting at the slightest touch. Shiro’s hand had placed the burn across the right side and center of her chest, and the material was quickly re hardening. Keith quickly slashed out a jagged trapezoid in the cloth and tore it away.  
   Lance inhaled a shocked breath.  
   Keith had forgotten about the metal collar. Before, down on Aepsis, he really hadn’t thought anything of it; just a bulky piece of chainmail wrapped around her throat. But now; the mere fact that she hadn’t taken it off with the rest of her rags definitely meant something now.  
   She turned her head and looked up at him in question.  
   He stared down at her, not with anger, but surprise and pity. “You were a slave?” he asked softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... This isn't my best pic, but it's a fairly accurate representation of 'sankaku'. As a side note, men, this is NOT where you want to be. Ever. I have been in this pin, and I have performed this pin. (I am a woman, but still). The only thing going through your mind when it's being done to you is "how the heck do I get out of this?" Link here:  
> [The Triangle](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/The-Triangle-674848474) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	31. “Charade” - Henry Mancini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro steps waaaaaay out of line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: blood, physical lashing out

   Miela blinked in surprise, and the remaining tears in her eyes spilled across her cheeks and into her hair. “I thought you knew,” she said. She looked up at Lance. “I… I thought it was obvious.” She made a move to sit up, and then grimaced and clapped both hands over her stomach.  
   “Hey!” Lance hooked his arm under her and helped her sit up. “Are you okay, honey?” He quickly slid out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.  
   Pidge looked up from her examination of Shiro’s arm. “Wait… what did you just call her?”  
   Lance glanced at her. “Huh?”  
   Shiro stared at the woman from across the room for a moment before narrowing his eyes. “I knew it.” He picked himself up off the floor. “I knew it meant something.”  
   Keith gave him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”  
   “Her name,” said Shiro. “Or at least… the name she goes by. It means ‘honey’.”  
   “Yeah,” Lance said, lowering one eyebrow at them. “Was I the only one who knew that already?” He smiled. “Sweet! I knew something!”  
   Pidge took a step toward her. “When we were on Aepsis, I was the one who found the monastery,” she said. “Two of the slavers were talking about their next shipment, and they said something about a missing slave they called ‘Honey’.” Her eyebrows came together sadly. “You’re her, aren’t you? You’re the one they were talking about.”  
   Miela met the girl’s gaze. “Yes.” The direct affirmation shocked all of them. “I was to be sold to the Arena some time in the past year.”  
   Shiro’s eyes widened. That would have been while he was the Galra’s Champion. “You… you were meant to compete with me in the arena.”  
   She lowered her eyebrows at him. “ _You_ were the Champion?”  
   Lance seemed to be hit with an idea. “Hold on. If that’s true…” He looked around at his teammates. “Do you guys realize what we just witnessed?” he asked, eyes bright. No one seemed to want to answer that, so Lance answered his own question. “A battle between Champions!”  
   Keith glanced at him. “Dude. Now’s not the time.”  
   Lance would have argued, but as he looked around at his teammates, he had to admit Keith was right.  
   “I don’t see what this changes,” Miela said. She got to her knees, but couldn’t find the strength to rise on her own. She toppled forward onto her hands.  
   “Hey,” said Keith. “Stop. Let me help you.” He took her arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, and pulled her slowly to her feet.  
   “Thank you.” She pulled Lance’s jacket tighter across her chest and looked over at Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro. “I honestly believed you had already made the connection,” she said. “That I’ve been a slave on Aepsis since my abduction, almost four years ago.”  
   Pidge’s eyebrows went up. “Four years? Then…”  
   “Yes. I’ve been in space longer than any of the Voltron Paladins.” She looked at Shiro. “Again, I don’t see that this changes anything. My identity hasn’t changed. My mission-”  
   “About that,” Shiro interrupted. “If you won’t tell us the details of your mission, then I can’t condone bringing you back to Aepsis with us, regardless of your fighting skills or your ability to follow orders.”  
   Miela pushed herself up straight, lifting the pressure off Keith’s shoulders. “But I’ve done everything you asked! And I’ve already made clear that my purpose on Aepsis should not conflict with anything you do!”  
   “Frankly, I don’t care,” said Shiro. “If you’re not willing to trust us, then what assurances do we have?”  
   “You’re one to talk,” Miela scoffed. “You’ve backed away from me every chance you’ve gotten! Your teammates trust me more than you do!”  
   “That’s my job!” Shiro barked. “My job is to protect my team from outside threats-”  
   “When have I actually _threatened_ any of you?” she shouted back. “You seem to be the only one to whom I pose a threat!”  
   “How can I be sure of that?” he snapped. “How can I possibly see past that when you’re conning them into bed one after another?”  
   Her hand stung across his face.  
   After that, the room was absolutely silent. The four younger paladins stared, dumbfounded, at the two adults at the center of the group.  
   “How _dare_ you?” Miela snarled. “You need to convene with your team before passing judgements like that, because I can almost guarantee you, _none_ of the other paladins thought so little of me.” She lowered her hand. “I’m not sure what I did to you…” The humility in her face folded into fury. “No. I’ve done nothing to warrant this behavior. You’re so far out of line, it’s embarrassing for _both_ of us. The _least_ you could do is be honest about your own actions.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “If you were trying to win me over for yourself, maybe you should keep your _prurient_ assumptions to yourself, you insufferable _hypocrite_!”  
   Shiro drew back and took a swing at her.  
   She saw the shift in his body too late. She stepped backward and the tips of his fingers sliced across the bridge of her nose, making her see bright, flashing lights. Miela reeled backward, banging into Lance and forcing him back a step. He caught her by the shoulders, and she cupped both hands over her face.  
   Pidge gasped and cried out. “Shiro, stop!” She grabbed his right arm and pulled.  
   “Miela!” Lance exclaimed. “Are you okay?”  
   After a few ticks, the woman stood up straight and let her hands drop from over her face. Shiro’s attempt at a slap hadn’t broken her skin, but the tips of his fingers had left a long, red scratch across one cheek and over the bone of her nose.  
   Shiro recoiled in horror. That was the final straw. If she wasn’t like him before, she certainly was now. Scars and all.  
   She scowled at him, and on her next breath she said four quiet words that turned Shiro’s insides to ice. “Are you happy now?”  
   Hunk inhaled sharply. “Miela, you’re bleeding!”  
   Miela’s face turned to shock as a stream of blood began trickling from her nose. She cupped her right hand over her face again.  
   Lance put his hands on her shoulders and shot Shiro a disappointed glare.  
   “Come on,” said Keith. “Let’s get you cleaned…”  
   “Get off me.”  
   Keith’s face turned to surprise. “Miela?”  
   “Get off!” She pushed both boys away, the jacket falling from her shoulders with the force of her shove, and ran from the room.  
   Lance bent and picked his jacket up off the floor. Then he looked up at Shiro. But for once, he could think of nothing to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG this pic took me forever. Hope you like.  
> [Hypocrite](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Hypocrite-674856517) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	32. “Choux Pastry Heart” - Corinne Bailey Rae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela comes to terms with what has just happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: nosebleed, fainting.

   Miela shut herself in her room after that.  She wanted to run away, to do something reckless and stupid to blow off steam, but she couldn’t think what just yet.  She sat down against her locked door, and began to cry.

   It felt like she cried for hours.  But it wasn’t enough.  No matter how many tears ran down her face, no matter how badly her eyes hurt or her breathing faltered, it didn’t feel right.  She couldn’t make it right.

   She had alienated the only remaining person who might be able to help her, and in so doing, had ruined any chance she had of returning to Aepsis… Maybe she would never see him again.

   Under her shaking breath and her stuffy nose, she started singing, as if that might help her to calm down somehow.  But it didn’t.  If anything, it made the panic worse.  She needed to get away, needed to do _something_ besides just sit here in the dark.

   She wiped her face, and suddenly remembered that she was covered in her own blood.  Maybe another bath would make her feel better.  If not that, at least she could splash her face with water and change her clothes.  She still had Allura’s nightgown, and her tunic and leggings.

   She forced herself to her feet.  She was starting to hurt all over, but the tender spot on her stomach was still the worst.  Quiznak.  Why did he have to hit her _there_?

   Maybe hot water was a good idea, after all.  She picked up the nightgown and studied the silken fabric between her fingers.  She didn’t want to be seen right now, but…  She sighed and gathered the nightgown in one arm.  Maybe afterward, she could find her way back to the quiet room and do some therapeutic vocalizing.  Maybe some singing, too.

   She made it to the baths without running into anyone.  How late in the evening was it?  If her body had anything to say about it, it must have been close to midnight.  She was getting tired, her core muscles trembling as they tried to keep her upright.  She pressed her hand to her belly to try to calm the pulsing ache, but that didn’t seem to do anything.  Maybe after this, she should just go to bed.

   It took the remainder of her energy just to change out of the ruined suit.  Had it really been such a long day?  She shook her head.  Of course it had.  The whole day had gone from great to worse.  She probably hadn’t had so much drama in her life since being at home.

   She smirked, and that felt better.

   Miela couldn’t sit in the bath long.  Already, she could feel herself fading.  So much for trying for a screaming match with the quiet room.  She hummed.  It was supposed to be a laugh, but it felt like her body wouldn’t let her.  She pulled herself out of the water, dried herself, and put on the nightgown, and staggered back out into the hallway.

   “Miela?”

   The woman glanced down the hallway at Pidge, who was carrying a shower caddy and a towel.  “Hey, Pidge.  You’re up late.”

   The girl frowned and looked at the floor.  “I… I didn’t think I’d see you for the rest of the night.”

   “Really?”  She hummed, thoughtfully.  “Well, we did have quite the fight tonight, didn’t we?”  She smiled sheepishly.  “I’m sorry you had to see that.  I should have had the forethought to pull Shiro aside for that conversation.”

   Pidge looked up at her.  “Did you mean those things you said?”

   Miela gave her a very tired smile.  “One thing I’ve learned, not too long ago, is that things said in anger are frequently exactly what they mean.”  She sighed.  “Yes, I’m afraid I did mean it.”

   Pidge studied her for a moment, and then gave her an equally tired look.  “You do realize I had to explain to the others what ‘prurient’ means, right?”

   Miela cracked a lop-sided grin.  “Now, _that_ I am truly sorry for.”  She turned a little more to face the girl.  “I imagine you had quite the field day with that.”  Her smile faded, and she averted her gaze.  “Although… I hope that did not drastically change your views of Shiro.”

   Pidge harrumphed and crossed her arms.  “He’s done plenty of that on his own.”

   Miela took a step closer to her.  “That may be true, but… if it’s possible, I’d like you to forgive him.  My sudden appearance has him frightened.”

   “Why?” Pidge asked.  “I thought almost nothing could scare Shiro.”

   Miela let out a short chuckle.  “If he’s anything like me, sweetheart, then Shiro is perpetually scared.  The fact that he can laugh, and love, and enjoy his friends, and hide all that fear… That’s part of what makes him brave.”  She smirked.  “And the fact that he showed you that side of himself today means he’s most scared of losing you.”

   Pidge’s face showed a sort of surprised understanding.  Then she set down her caddy and towel, and trotted up to Miela for a tackling hug.

   It felt like a gunshot.  Pain shot up Miela’s front, and her knees went weak for a moment, forcing her to lean on the smaller girl’s shoulders.  “Ah… Pidge, that hurts, sweet.”

   The girl backed away a bit.  “Oh my gosh!  I’m sorry!  I forgot, you didn’t take any time to recover!”

   “What does that mean?” Miela asked.  She tried to push herself upright, but her knees still didn’t want to work.

   Pidge continued to support her while the woman fought for balance.  “W-we have a sleep chamber.  You really should…”  Something warm and damp landed on her shoulder.  Pidge looked down at a red spot that had appeared on her shirt.  The girl gasped and looked up.  “M-Miela, your nose!”  

   Miela touched her face.  She was bleeding again.  Her fingers were fuzzy…  The woman’s eyes grew unfocused, and she sagged heavily.  

   Pidge let out a cry.  “No, no, no, I can’t hold you up!  Miela!”  The poor girl couldn’t support Miela’s weight, and was forced to let her sink to the floor.  “Please get up!  Please!”  She clung to the woman’s arm, the only thing she could hold on to, and turned to scream down the castle corridor.  “Help!  Someone help me!”


	33. “Come Round Soon” - Sara Bareilles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro needs time to get his act together

   Shiro stood in silence, cloaked almost completely in the darkness of the observation deck. Only the low, blue accent lights and the residual glow from the engines on the other side of the reinforced window lit the space. That was fine. He needed minimal distractions to gather himself.  
   It hadn’t taken him long to realize just how wrong he was. The rest of the paladins; his team, his _friends_ ; had left him standing in the training room by himself, without a single word to admonish him, or even to acknowledge him.  
   Maybe that’s what had hurt the most, he thought. He was so worried about a stranger coming between them, he hadn’t noticed how hard he was pushing everyone away. And he had finally done it; he had disappointed all of them. Not only had he struck an unarmed woman, but he had done so for the worst reason. Because she was _right_.  
   Shiro sat down on one of the couches that ringed the room, and put his head in both hands. Quiznak. How was he going to fix this _now_? He must have the worst possible timing; the shipment was in less than three days, and his team was effectively scattered. No, not scattered; united against him. Was that worse or better? The childish thoughts flittered back through his brain. At least Miela’s not leading them. He shook the nagging little voice out of his head. At this point, she might actually be a better leader than I’m being, he corrected.  
   It still puzzled him that she didn’t have any interest in leading his team. The things she could do if she had the drive, he mused. She could sing like an angel, dance like a nymph, and fight like a demon. She was smart, creative, pretty, and, what was more, she made the people around her _happy_. He smiled, and then was surprised he had done so.  
   She made _him_ happy, too, he suddenly realized. In spite of his ridiculous stubbornness, and his vain attempts to prove something. What was it he was trying to prove, anyway? That he could lead the team who has followed him _literally_ across the universe? He scoffed. How useless. What was he so worried about? The only competition around here is the one he started.  
   He had to make this up somehow, he decided. He’d at least make her a heartfelt apology. And after that, if she cursed him, he couldn’t blame her.  
   He looked at his hands. The fingers of his left were still tingling, but he could flex them now. He had jammed his thumb into that metal collar of hers, though, and he was starting to lose flexibility there. He needed to stabilize it before it swelled up too badly. He got up, and finally turned on the lights. His thoughts were organized now. At last, he could start working on recovering all the things he had tried so hard to lose.  
   Shiro gingerly slid his fingers out of the black leather glove. It didn’t really hurt yet, not that that really mattered. He could handle that sort of pain. He opened the pack on the right side of his belt and pulled out his emergency kit. Inside it was a tiny splint that he could bend to fit over the curve of his thumb, and medical tape to secure it to his hand. It would have to do.  
   He needed to check on her, too, he thought. He had hit her pretty hard. Even if she had planned for it, that still must have hurt. He rubbed his jaw where she had struck him. At least the blow had been repaid in kind. It would leave a bruise, later.  
   He stood up, tucked the fingerless glove into his pocket, and took a deep breath before stepping out into the hallway.   
   There was sound out here. Not the sound of the engines, or the environmental controls, but a sort of high-pitched, faltering hiss right on the edge of his perception. His ears perked. “What _is_ that?” he mumbled. He closed his eyes and cupped both hands around his ears to try and make it out. It was difficult at first, but he was finally able to deduce where the sound was coming from, and began walking in that direction. After his first turn, he began to notice that the sound had a rhythm… more speech-like than musical, he decided.  
   Two steps later, it hit him. The reason the high-pitched hiss sounded like speech was because it _was_ speech. High-pitched… probably female… young; and only that high-pitched because of _distress_.  
   Shiro’s eyes went wide. “Pidge…” He started running. “Pidge!” he screamed down the hall. “Katie! Where are you?” He stopped at the next intersection. “Pidge! Answer me!”  
   Pidge looked up at the sound of the voice. She couldn’t make out who it was, but that didn’t matter. She coughed and cleared her throat. “We’re over here!” Her throat was starting to hurt, her eyes watering in her panic. “Help me!”  
   Shiro rounded the corner and sprinted up to the two bodies in the middle of the hall. “Pidge!” She looked at him over her shoulder, and dread hit Shiro in the chest. There was a red smear across the girl’s face. “Are you okay?”  
   She stood up, still holding Miela’s hand. “I’m fine.”  
   “Is that blood?” Shiro asked. He took her by the shoulder and rubbed the red streak on her face with the pad of his thumb.  
   “It’s not mine,” she answered. “Boy, am I glad to see you!” She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.  
   “What happened?” Shiro knelt beside Miela.  
   “I don’t know. Her nose started bleeding again, and she just kind of went limp, and I couldn’t leave her! I tried to pick her up, but I wasn’t strong enough, Shiro. I’m not strong en…”  
   “It’s okay,” Shiro said soothingly. “We can’t be strong all the time.” He bent and touched the delicate curve of Miela’s throat. It was a useless gesture, done more out of habit than medical experience; he could feel her pulse pounding against the tips of his fingers. “She must be exhausted,” he murmured. He glanced up at Pidge. “Go get one of the cryo-pods ready. I’ll be right behind you.”


	34. “Heavy In Your Arms” - Florence and the Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro learns a bit more about the mysterious woman, but not without losing something precious of his own...

   Shiro gathered the woman into his arms as Pidge hurried away toward the sleep chamber.  She was lighter than he had expected, and her toned figure fit comfortably against him, not all edges and sharp angles like had thought.  He hoisted her to chest height, and she groaned, her head rolling and coming to rest on his shoulder.

   He looked down into her face, remarking once at how peaceful she looked, before setting off down the hall.  Even now, unconscious against his chest, she had put her future in their hands… _his_ hands.  How could she trust him like this?  He had done so little to earn her favor, and he was certainly kicking himself now.

   “Please,” he whispered.  “Hang in there.”

   Suddenly there was a soft moan in his ear, and the tickle of her fingernails just inside the high collar of his vest.

   "Shiro?"

   He glanced down at the woman in his arms.  Her eyes were sleepy, her hair mussed so that the patch of short hair above her left temple became visible. His steps had jostled her, smearing the blood across her face.  “You’re awake?”

   She looked dazed for a moment.  “Am I?”  She groaned and tried to lift her head.

   “No, don’t,” said Shiro.  “Don’t move around too much.”

   “What happened?” she mumbled.

   “We don’t know.  You passed out.”

   Miela leaned her head against his shoulder again.  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

   "For what?"

   “For…”  She coughed, then swallowed.  "For slapping you."

   Shiro's brow folded together in shame.  "You were right to.  I'm the one who should be sorry."

   "Why?"

   Shiro felt his face flush.  ”Because… the things you said… All of them were…”  Her body clenched and trembled in his arms, and he stopped mid-sentence with a startled sound.  "H-hey!"

   She laughed breathlessly and relaxed into him.  "Tact was never my forte.”  She hummed.  “One more thing I should tell Lance I’m bad at.”

   "Don't be sorry," Shiro breathed.  "Don't ever be sorry for that ever again."  He curled her closer against his chest.  "We're almost there.  Hang on."

   “Shiro."

   “Yeah?”  When she didn’t answer immediately, Shiro looked down.  “What is it?”

   A soft smile touched her lips.  “It means ‘white,’ doesn’t it?”

   That surprised him.  “Yeah.  How did you know?”

   She harrumphed weakly.  “There’s a lot of trivia rattling around in my head.”  Her eyes closed for a moment.  “When we first met, I thought it was kind of ironic.”  She reached up and gently brushed his white forelock out of his eyes.  “Now, though… I’m beginning to see that it suits you.”  The soft, slender hand traced a delicate line across his cheek.

   Shiro’s worried look deepened.  “It’s not my real name, though.”

   “I remember,” she breathed.  “Shirogane.”  She hummed.  “White…  No, that’s not right…”  She mumbled something unintelligible.  “Silver?”

   “Names mean a lot to you, don’t they?” he asked.

   She opened her tired eyes and looked at him.  “When it’s all you have, it does.  It has your power in it _._ ”  She groaned again and returned her hand to the back of his neck.  After a moment more, she said his name; a name he hadn’t heard in a very long time.  “Takashi.”  

   The name, barely audible on her breath, felt like a bullet in his stomach.  What the quiznak was that?  Maybe it was true, what she had said about names having power.  She had barely whispered his, and it had torn down all his defenses and almost brought him to his knees.

   Shiro swallowed and tried to cover up that sudden feeling of naked vulnerability.  “Yes?”

   “You've never said my name."

   Shiro stopped in the middle of the hallway.  He never had, had he?  He never called her Miela, and he knew why.  He looked down, into the folds of the ruined nightgown Allura had given her.  "I... I don't know your name."

   She smirked under the red smear of her bloodied nose.  "I want you to know it."

   "What?"

   "My... my real name."  Her voice was getting softer.  

   Shiro looked down the seemingly interminable hall ahead of them.  “I’m not so sure I deserve to hear it.”

   She laughed under her breath, and then cringed again.  “That’s for me to decide.”  Her fingers tugged weakly at the back of his neck.  He bent down, until they were pressed cheek-to-cheek.  "My name… is Filomena.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay, pic here!  
> [Filomena](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Filomena-675536547) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)
> 
> AAAAnd awesome fan art here!  
> [Heavy In Your Arms](https://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Heavy-in-Your-Arms-725908690) by [August997](http://august997.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	35. “Burning House” - Cam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The paladins gather around their friend

   Allura was livid.  She could forgive Shiro for his behavior if Miela could, but waiting eight whole vargas to tell her their guest had fainted and had to be put in stasis was worthy of raising her voice.

   “I can’t _believe_ you!” she cried.  “I don’t care if I _was_ asleep!  You should have told me!”  She and the rest of her crew were gathered in front of the only occupied sleep-pod.

   Shiro rubbed his head.  The headache had started around what he thought might be oh-two-hundred, and hadn’t left him alone since.  “And what would you have done, Princess?” he asked, matching her tone and volume.  

   He had sat, unmoving, against the central column of the sleep chamber all night.  Maybe that was the cause of the headache.  His face pulled into a look of deep shame, and the pain intensified.  Or it could be the guilt.  He hadn’t thought of that before.  

   He sighed.  “I knew that, even if I got her here alive, it would be a waiting game.  There was no real point in waking you up for that.”

   Allura’s face took on Shiro’s worry.  “You thought she could have died?”

   Shiro shrugged.  “I had no way of knowing what would have happened.  Pidge was there when she passed out.  I just carried her here.”

   The princess turned and looked at the green paladin.  “Tell me what you saw.”

   Pidge looked at the floor and thought.  “I was on my way to take a bath, and I met her coming out.  She looked exhausted, but… she took the time to comfort me… and to tell me I should forgive Shiro.”

   Surprise lifted Shiro’s eyebrows.  “She… she said that?”

   “Yeah.”  The corners of her mouth turned up in a wan smile.  “So, I hugged her.  She collapsed right after that.”

   Shiro studied his prosthetic.  “Did I really hit her that hard?” he mumbled.

   Allura looked up at him.  “This is why you should have awoken me,” she said.  I can use the chamber terminal to examine her for injuries.”

   Keith was staring into the cryo-tube at Miela’s sleeping figure.  “What if you find one?” he asked.  He turned and looked at Allura.  “What happens then?”

   “It would depend on the severity and age of the injury,” Allura said.

   The black paladin waved his hand to signal a pause.  “Before we even consider that, how long would it take you to scan her?” Shiro asked.

   “A few doboshes, perhaps?  Per scan, of course.”

   The black paladin sighed.  “All right.  I could use a shower.”

   “I second that,” Pidge mumbled.  “I never actually made it to the baths last night.”

   Allura sighed.  “Fine.”  She turned to her second-in-command.  “Coran, can you please begin the scans?”

   His orange eye brows went up.  “All of them, Princess?”

   She looked up at Shiro, but he looked at the floor.  “Yes, I think so.”  She touched the black paladin on the arm and gave him a half-hearted smile.  “It’s the least we can do.”

   Shiro broke her gaze again.  “Thank you,” he murmured.  “This whole mess is my fault.”

   Allura followed his downward look.  “I may have worsened it, too.  I told her I’d advise you to take her with you to Aepsis, barring unforseen circumstances.”

   Shiro looked up at the sleeping woman in the transparent tube.  After eight vargas, the scratch across her nose had faded, and the blue light inside the pod brought out the brown spray of freckles that ordinary light had masked.  “This might be one of those things,” he said.

   Unable to do anything more, Shiro trudged out of the sleep chamber in the direction of the baths.

   Lance turned and looked at Allura.  “What do we do now?” he asked.

   The princess looked at him.  “We should begin preparations for our return.  At this point, it’s still too soon to tell whether or not Miela will be coming with us, but we have her advice to consider.”  She looked at Coran.  “If we are going to pull this mission off, I’ll need Pidge to put a few of her modified BLIP drones in orbit before we land.”

   “So, we will be landing, after all,” Lance affirmed.

   “We’ll have to, in order to coordinate,” she said.  “Once we breach the atmosphere, we’ll be completely blind.  We’ll need those drones to be our eyes; to be able to tell when the shipment arrives.”

   “What about Miela’s mission?” Keith asked.  “Isn’t there something we can do to help her?”

   Hunk shrugged.  “Dude, look.  We get that you like her.  We all do.  But you’re talking about a needle in a haystack.  I’m not saying it’s hopeless, but it’s not worth planning anything until we know what she’s looking for.”

   Keith looked at him.  “You’re expecting her to tell us?”

   “Well, yeah.  She told me she would, once our plan was solid.”  He looked around.  “And I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I believe her.  She might be a little enigmatic, but she tells the truth, even if it’s not what we want to hear.”  He looked at the floor.  “I think that’s the biggest thing I learned about her last night,” he said.

   The rest of the paladins looked at the floor.

   Pidge sighed and pulled her fingers through her tangled hair.  “We have work to do, guys.  We can talk about this later.”  She turned for the door.  “I’m going to shower and suit up.” 

   Hunk gestured over his shoulder.  “I guess that means I’m headed to the kitchen.  You guys hungry?”

   Lance turned to follow him.  “Yeah, man.  I could eat.”

   “Keith?”

   The red paladin glanced over his shoulder at Hunk.  “Thanks, but I think I should stay here.”

   “Suit yourself.  I’ll save some for you.”

   “Okay.  Thanks.”  He watched Hunk leave, and then his eyes turned and focused on Allura, who was staring worriedly at him.  He sighed and looked at his feet.  “Shiro says this was his fault, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve let her down, too.”

   She was quiet, and for a moment, Keith wasn’t sure if she was going to say anything.  Maybe he was right, and she did hate him, after all.  A couple ticks later, he heard her footsteps, and then felt the weight of her hand on his shoulder.

   “I would’ve done all the same things,” she whispered.  “So… don’t be too hard on yourself.”

   Keith turned and looked at her.  The hard stoicism with which she had regarded him the past several days had softened, somehow.  She gave him a little smile, and that seemed to melt the tightness in his chest.

   “I’ve got to plan the landing coordinates,” she murmured.  “We’ll all meet back here in about a varga.  That’ll give us all time to get our chores done.”  She let her hand drop from his shoulder, and her fingertips gently brushed his as she moved past him.

   Keith was a little startled at the inherent intimacy of the touch.  “Princess Allura?”

   She turned and looked at him.  “Yes?”

   He couldn’t.  He couldn’t bring himself to ask her what that small gesture had meant.  He lowered his gaze.  “Is there anything else I can do?”

   She blinked once, and then smirked.  “Perhaps you should make use of the updated gladiator,” she suggested.  “I believe your dance with Miela was… abbreviated?”

   Keith twisted his mouth to one side at her teasing.  “I guess it was.  Now, _that_ actually was my fault.”  He looked up at the sleeping woman.  “That’s not a bad idea, though.  Maybe I’ll have a new dance partner next time?”  He glanced back at Allura.

   She folded her arms.  “Maybe if you ask nicely,” she said with a sly smile.  “I’ll meet you back here in a little while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something is telling Shiro "It's going to be a looooooong quintant."


	36. “Breakable” - Ingrid Michaelson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coran and Shiro have a talk, and the rest of the paladins discuss what they know about their guest. As a side note, Pidge is a closet romantic, and she totally 'ships this.

   Shiro was the first to return to the sleep chamber, after what was quite possibly the briefest shower he had ever taken.

   Coran looked up at him as he entered the room.  “That was quick,” he remarked.

   Shiro laughed under his breath.  “After yesterday, I’m finally starting to feel human again.”

   “Just starting to?” Coran asked.  “Perhaps you should’ve taken a longer shower.”

   Shiro smiled, but had no retort.  “How are the scans coming?” he asked.

   “I’ve just finished the first one.”  He pointed to the screen, at a three-dimensional rendering of a female human body.  “It’s a general scan; it shows the figure, posture.  It can sometimes let us know if any joints are out of place.”  He lifted a finger and rubbed at a spot on the screen.

   “Did you find anything?”

   Coran stood up straight and put his hands on his hips.  “Well, aren’t you Mr. Proactive today?”  He leaned a little too close and narrowed his eyes at Shiro.  “You seem quite _interested_ in her well-being, for someone who’s tried very hard to remain neutral.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes back at Coran and leaned backward.  His mind raced, but he wasn’t quick enough to come up with reasons for his interest.  “I…uh…”

   “Perhaps you _should’ve_ taken a longer shower.”  There was something strongly implied in his voice, but Shiro was certain it had nothing to do with what immediately came to mind.  Coran was many things, but crass was not one of them.

   “W-what does _that_ mean?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

   “It might’ve given you more time to think.”  

   Shiro made a face.  He had thought about Miela… no, Filomena… for the last eight vargas.  The last thing he really needed was more of the same under the shower head.  The very idea brought her carefully sharpened choice words back to mind.

   The redheaded man sighed and backed away.  “No, I haven’t come up with anything yet.  We’ve only done the initial scan.  The deeper the scan, the longer we’ll have to wait.”

   “How many more scans…?”

   “Several vargas’ worth.”  Coran shrugged.  “The Princess asked that I perform all of them.  I don’t know how many we’ll get done before we enter Aepsis’ atmosphere.”

   “What happens then?” Shiro asked.

   The Altean man shrugged.  “We’re not sure.  If we have to switch over to auxiliary power, we’ll lose the scans.”

   “Will she be all right?”

   “Oh, yes.  It won’t affect the life support systems.”  Coran cut his eyes up at Shiro, knowingly.  “We slept for ten thousand years on auxiliary power.  She’ll be fine.”  He rubbed at the spot on the screen again and harrumphed.

   “What’s up?”

   “The console might be due for an upgrade,” said Coran.  “There’s some discoloration here.”  He pointed at the spot, and Shiro leaned in.  The scan had illustrated her figure beautifully, except for a thin, straight horizontal line across her lower abdomen.

   “I don’t think that’s the screen,” Shiro murmured.  “Can you magnify it?”

   “Oh, I don’t know why I didn’t think about that.”  He zoomed in with the tips of two gloved fingers.  “It might just be an imperfection in her skin.”

   “That might be putting it lightly,” Shiro said.  “It looks like a surgical scar.”  His forehead creased.  “I don’t know what it’s like for Alteans,” he said, “but abdominal surgery can be tough for humans to get over.”

   Coran looked up.  “Oh?  You’ve had one of these before?”

   “Yeah, a little one.”  Shiro looked over at him.  “Well, I don’t know what kind she had.  My scar doesn’t look like that.”  He studied the screen for a few more ticks.  “Coran, is there any way you can estimate the age of that scar?”

   He harrumphed.  “I can tell just by looking at it, it’s probably around three months old.”

   Shiro sighed.  “That doesn’t really tell me anything.”

   “But it does,” Coran said.  “It tells us that you didn’t make that mark.  Someone else did.”  He put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder.  “You didn’t hurt her, Shiro.  Not any worse than she already was.”

   Shiro ignored the pang in his chest.  “How’s her burn healing?”

   Coran looked at the screen again.  “Eight vargas in?  There probably won’t even be a mark left.”

   The black paladin ran his fingers through his white hair.  “That’s a relief.”

   The sound of soft footsteps entered the room.  “You really are worried about her, aren’t you?” Princess Allura asked.

   Shiro glanced at her, and then looked at his feet.  “Yes,” he admitted.  “I know I don’t have any right to be, after the way I treated her.”

   Allura gave him a sad smirk.  “I’m sure she would appreciate it.”

   The other paladins filed in behind her soon after that.  Hunk was kind and brought in plates of prosciutto and melon for the rest of the team, and distributed breakfast to those of them who hadn’t eaten.  They all sat around the room in a circle, except for Shiro, who chose to eat standing up.

   “Thanks, Hunk,” he said.  “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

   Hunk smiled.  “There’s more, if you want it.”

   Lance leaped up.  “I’d like some more!”

   Hunk shot him a sideways glance.  “You’ve had three.”  He handed another plate to Shiro.

   Lance pouted a little and sat down.  “Man, it’s going to be really different when she leaves, won’t it?” he asked.

   Pidge hummed around a bite of melon.  “Well, it’ll be quieter, definitely.”  She said it with a little touch of sadness.  “I kind of started to like opera, after hearing her sing.”

   “You didn’t before?” Lance asked.  He reached over and tried to steal a pinch of prosciutto off her plate.

   Pidge turned and smacked the back of his hand with her spork, making a noise of objection in her throat.  “Mine.”  She speared the little piece and stuck it in her mouth.  “I just never had any interest.  But the way she makes it sound…  It feels…”  She stopped to think, and then shot Lance a glare as he reached for her plate again.

   Keith finished her thought for her.  “That’s just it.  It _feels_.  You think of opera as something unintelligible, something to be ridiculed simply for being inaccessible.”  He looked up.  “But when she sings it, you can see how challenging it is, and how she pulls emotion out of every note, every word…”

   Hunk folded his arms.  “When she sang for us, it was like she became a completely different person.  You can tell she feels the emotion in whatever character she’s playing.”

   Pidge finally put her spork down on her empty plate.  “It didn’t occur to me until just now, but… we really _don’t_ know much about her, do we?”

   “I suppose not,” said Allura.  “I had to ask her once if she was just playing a part for us, but I think I’ve seen enough to know she’s not.”  She looked at the console.  “She’s given us hints here and there, but… she’s acting like she doesn’t want to get attached to us, don’t you think?”

   “Yeah,” said Lance.  “What do we really know about her?”  He began counting things on his fingers.  “We know she had a classical education, a background in mixed martial arts, music, and theater performance.  What else?”

   Shiro looked up.  “We know she has a family.  A younger sister… and…”  He paused for half a moment.

   “I know how old she is,” Hunk interjected.

   Lance nearly hurt himself spinning around to look at him.  “You _what_?  Why didn’t you say something?”

   Hunk shrugged.  “I just found out last night, when I brought her dinner.”  He smirked.  “She’s twenty-six.”

   Lance’s face went pale, and Keith’s turned bright red.  Everyone else’s face lit up in amazement.

   Hunk chuckled.  “I was going to wait until she woke up to tell you guys, but I guess there’s no point holding back now.  I wish she could’ve seen the looks on you guys’ faces!”  He laughed harder.

   “S-she’s _ten years_ older than us?” the blue paladin squeaked.

   “Lance,” Shiro groaned.  “She’s only _one_ year older than me.”

   “Yeah, but…”

   “Don’t,” said Pidge, cutting him off.  “Please don’t make it worse.”

   “What about the mission?” Keith asked.  “It could happen at any time in the next quintant.  Isn’t there anything we can do for her?”

   Lance shrugged.  “Hopefully, we’ll be able to bring all the slaves on board,” he said.  “Maybe the person she’s looking for will be among them?”

   “I dunno,” Hunk said doubtfully.  “Last time we talked, she said she would be the only one who knew what the individual looked like.”  He looked around at the rest of his team.  “Does anyone have a clue what that means?”

   Allura looked at the floor.  They deserved to know, didn’t they?  “I… I may have some idea of what her mission is about.”  She looked up.

   “Allura?” Coran asked softly.  Up until that moment, Shiro had seriously wondered if he _could_ be soft-voiced.  They were so used to him being boisterous that his sudden tenderness shocked the lot of them.

   The princess lowered her gaze again in thought.  “I made the remark to her about returning to Aepsis for ‘someone special’, and she… offered me a way to quiet things down around here.”

   “Like what?” Shiro asked.

   She sighed.  “A lie.  She told me that, if it would silence all the bickering, I could tell you she was married.”  She looked up at her team.  “In retrospect, it might have worked, but… it didn’t feel right.”

   Shiro stared at her.  “And she… she told you in advance that it was a lie?”

   “Yes.  She gave me a choice, and I chose honesty.” Allura turned her eyes downward again.  “Her intelligence is… almost frightening.  If she were just a little more cunning, she could overthrow governments!”  The princess shook her head.  “But I don’t think she would be willing to risk losing herself over petty politics.”

   “Then, if it’s not her spouse… who is it?” Shiro asked.

   Allura looked up at the sleeping woman again.  “I’m not sure I’m supposed to say,” she finally said.  “We… _all_ of us… have made too many assumptions about her already.”  She sighed.  “I can wait until she wakes up.  I’ve been too impatient as it is.  What matters… at least, to me… is that I believe her now.”

   “I know what you mean,” Shiro said sympathetically.

   Allura looked up at him.  “You do?”

   The black paladin nodded.  “I know her name.”

   “You _what_?” Pidge asked.  “How much did I miss last night?  She woke up?  And she talked to you?”

   “Pidge.”

   “Holy cow, what _else_ did I miss?  You did apologize to her, right?”  She inhaled sharply and pressed both hands to her cheeks.  “No, wait!  Did you ki-?”

   “Pidge!”  Shiro’s face flushed a little as he cut off that last question.  “After what happened yesterday, it was a wonder she wanted to talk to me at all.”  The blush faded, and he looked up at her.  “But… she was so kind.”  Pidge’s face became concerned, and Shiro looked at the floor again and mumbled something that hurt the girl’s heart.  “I should be so lucky…”  He sighed.  “Her name is Filomena.”  He looked from face to face.  “She kept it to herself… not out of spite, or because it was such a big secret, but because it was the one thing she had that made her feel powerful.  I think we can all relate to that, a little bit.”

   There was a little digital sound, and Coran spoke up.  “Ah!” he exclaimed.  “The third scan just finished.”  He returned to his place in front of the console, and hurt slowly made its way across his face.

   “Coran, what’s wrong?” Allura asked.

   He looked up at her.  “Perhaps you should take a look, Princess.”  He moved away, and Allura took his place in front of the console.

   “Oh… oh my.”

   “Allura?” Keith asked.

   The princess studied the screen for a few ticks, and then looked up.  “She’s got a scar across her abdomen from some kind of surgery,” she explained.  “But whoever did the procedure obviously had no idea what species she was…”  She trailed off for a moment.

   “They botched it,” Lance supplied.

   She glanced at him.  “If that’s what you want to call it.  Her muscles are… twisted.  They’ve been reconnected in the wrong places, and even then, not well.”

   Shiro clutched his chest.  “She must be in constant pain,” he murmured.

   Allura nodded.  “It’s a miracle she has as much power and breath support as she does.  Every time she does something strenuous, the tendons threaten to disconnect.”  She looked up at Keith.  “Her body is trying to tear itself apart, just so it can heal correctly.”

   “Will she be okay?” Pidge asked.

   “That depends largely on her,” said Allura.  “But… the pod won’t be able to fix the problem.  Once scar tissue has begun to form, the pod’s healing abilities become much more limited.”  She gestured at Shiro.  “For example, no matter how long Shiro stays in a pod, it won’t regrow his arm.”  She sighed.  “I’m sorry, Paladins.  She won’t be returning with you to Aepsis.”

   “What was the point of the surgery?” Shiro asked.

   “I’m not sure.  Our deeper scans are still running.”

   “What about her nose?” Pidge asked.

   Allura hummed and touched the scan to reorient it.  “It looks like Shiro broke a few capillaries,” she said.  “Nothing major, but it could start bleeding again if she so much as _breathes_ too hard.”  She laughed under her breath.  “She’ll be okay, but she’ll need to take it easy until we can find someone to do a corrective surgery.”

   Pidge folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Shiro.  “At least you know you weren’t the cause, right?” she asked.

   Shiro let out a sheepish laugh.  “At least.”  He looked down at his prosthetic and flexed his fingers.

   “Yeah,” the girl went on, “And besides, your arm had nothing to do with it.  Remember?  Your striking force always comes from your shoulder.”  She patted her own arm.  “And your prosthetic stops at your deltoid, right?”

   “Y-yeah.”

   The green paladin smiled at him.  “See?  Nothing to be ashamed of.”

   Shiro looked down again.  “I’m not so sure about that.”  He looked up at her sheepishly.  “But… thanks, guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, Coran knows what's up. Smug son of a gun.


	37. “Winter Song” - Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela wakes up... and gets hit with the bad news, and Lance and Keith almost get caught eavesdropping

   Miela woke up in a panic.  Her arms were rigid at her sides, and, when she could finally move them, were sluggish and feeble.  Her adrenaline rush quickly intensified as her claustrophobia set in, and she raised her arms to slap weakly at the transparent pane between her and the rest of the castle.

   Hunk, who had been assigned watch, had just returned to the room with her lunch and was startled into fresh awareness at the woman’s sudden movement inside the pod.  He moved to the central tower and looked at the confusing array of buttons while Miela’s motions became increasingly frantic.

   Before he could do anything at the console, the pod door slid open, and she toppled out with a squeal of alarm.

   The big man rushed forward and caught her before she could fall down the steps.  She had started crying inside the chamber, and she was shaking hard, her breathing moments away from hyperventilating.

   “What is it?” Hunk asked.  “What’s wrong?”

   “S-small spaces,” she wheezed.  “I couldn’t move… I couldn’t get out!”

   Hunk curled her into a big hug.  “It’s okay.  You’re out now.”

   They sat together on the steps while she ate.  Hunk had even brought an extra serving for her, which she quickly devoured.

   “Don’t know why I’m so famished,” she breathed.

   Hunk’s eyebrows went up.  “That’s one of the things about the pods,” he said.  “Apparently you get really hungry when you come out.”

   She looked over at him.  “How long was I in there?”

   “About twelve vargas, maybe?”  Miela let a shudder run down her spine, and Hunk cocked one eyebrow at her.  “All the many terrifying things in this universe, and you’re _claustrophobic_?” he asked.

   She chuckled.  “Ironic, isn’t it?”  She took another bite.  “My sister is scared of spiders.”

   Hunk made a face.  “I don’t blame her, there.”

   She tittered.  “That seems to be a theme in my family.  My dad has it, too.  But for my mom, it was always cockroaches.”

   “Eh.  Those are gross, but I’m not really afraid of them.”

   “Me either.”  She scooped another bite of food into her spork.  “I knew a girl, once, who was absolutely repulsed by reptiles of any kind.  Even those little garden lizards I used to chase when I was little.”  She laughed at the memory.  “I found out when she refused to come into my house because there was one, not four centimeters long, sunning himself on the porch.”  She sputtered and started laughing out loud.

   Hunk smiled.  “You should laugh more often,” he said.  “It brightens the place up.”

   She sighed.  “My life is one huge drama right now,” she told him.  “Laughter is a precious commodity.  I enjoy it when I can.”

   The yellow paladin looked away.  “No offense, but that sounds like something Shiro would say.”

   She raised her eyebrows.  “None taken.  I should be flattered that you compare me to him.”

   “Really?  Even after last night?”

   She nodded.  “Just because I called him on _one_ inconsistency doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the majority of his virtues.”

   Hunk rubbed the back of his neck.  “I wonder if he sees it that way…”

   Miela set her fork down.  “Shall I tell him?  Or would that be considered ‘sending mixed signals’?”

   “I don’t know, actually.  I don’t really know what I would do…”  He looked at her.  “I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to say that to him in the first place.”

   “You’re brave when you want to be, Hunk.”

   “Thanks.”  He picked up her plates, and then took her hand to pull her up.  “He wants to see you, you know.”

   “I figured as much.”  She looked down at her nightgown.  “Ugh.  This thing is a mess… and I imagine I am, too.”  She rubbed at her nose, which was still itching from last night’s nosebleed.

   “There’s no helping it now,” said Hunk.  “Go talk to Shiro, and after that, maybe we can look for you some clothes.”

   “Do you think I have time to wash my face first?” she asked.

   “Sure.  The head is on the way to the main hall, so we’ll pass right by it on the way.”

   Shiro and Allura were conversing quietly in the main ballroom, at the bottom of the elegant staircase.

   Miela wrapped her arms over her front and blushed deeply.  “This is _not_ appropriate attire,” she remarked.  “I look like Lucia di Lammermoor.”

   Hunk looked at her.  “I wish I could say I knew who that was.”

   Miela sighed.  “White gown and bloodstains.  I’m sure Shiro will get the reference.”

   Hunk cleared his throat, and Shiro and Allura looked up at them.  Both of them inhaled at the sight of the woman in the bloodstained gown, and then Shiro’s face relaxed into a resigned smile.

   “Well, ‘Lucia’,” he said, a laugh under his voice.  “Are you still _mad_ at me?”

   Allura turned to look at him.  “I thought her name was Filomena.”

   He gave her a dry look.  “It’s Earth music humor.  Call it an ‘inside joke’.”

   Miela responded with a sarcastic laugh.  “Ha-ha.  Very funny.”  She pulled her skirts above her ankles and gracefully descended the stairs.  “You don’t see me with any _knives_ , do you?”

   Shiro smiled.  “I doubt very much you would need one, after the beating you gave me yesterday.”

   She smirked at him.  “That might be true, but… you certainly gave me a run for my money.”

   His smile faded, and he looked at the floor.  “I’m afraid we have a few things to discuss.”

   Princess Allura lifted her gaze to Hunk, who still stood at the top of the stairs.  “Give us the room, please.”

   Hunk just nodded, and then turned to leave.

   On the opposite side of the room, on the balcony above, Lance peered over the bannister.  He couldn’t make out what was being said, but he had a clear view of the proceedings.

   “Man,” he mumbled, “I should’ve gotten my helmet or something.”

   “Why?” Keith asked, crouched behind him.

   Lance glared at him over his shoulder.  “I can’t hear what they’re saying, Mullet!” he hissed.

   Keith gave him an impatient look.  “They’re probably telling her the news, and that she can’t come with us.  I don’t know what you’re so interested in.  The only thing that’s really likely is that she’s gonna cry, and frankly, I don’t want to watch that.”

   “Dude.  Heartless much?”

   “I’m not being heartless,” Keith corrected softly.  “Shiro and Allura are doing the right thing, even if it’s not easy.  Watching Miela cry…”  He paused, and then sighed.  “It’s hard on me, okay?”

   Lance looked sympathetic for a moment.  “I… guess I see what you mean.”

   “All right, now move.”  Keith pushed Lance sideways, and then slowly raised up until sound drifted over the bannister.  He closed his eyes for a moment to focus, and then stooped back down, out of sight.  “Okay.  I can kind of isolate Shiro’s voice.”  He kept his eyes closed and cupped his hands over his ears.  “‘We found out why you collapsed last night’,” he quoted at a whisper.  He glanced up at the Blue Paladin, who had raised his head surreptitiously over the railing again.  “Seriously?  We’re eavesdropping on _this_?  This is old news!”

   Lance shushed him.  “Just let me know if there’s anything we don’t know.”

   Keith grumbled and cupped his hands over his ears again.

   Down below, unaware of the eavesdropping, Shiro and Allura explained their dilemma as best they could.  That, out of all the things that could possibly go wrong, it was Miela’s health that was most likely to jeopardize the mission to Aepsis.  That they applauded all the things that made her worthy of the trip, but they couldn’t bear to take the risk.

   “I understand this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” Allura was saying.  “It breaks my heart to deny you the one thing you’ve asked of us.  I hope you realize that.  Everything you’ve done has told us how prepared you are to go back, but… your physical condition is…”  She trailed off.

   “I understand.”  Allura looked up at her.  Filomena’s eyes were full of tears, but she seemed relatively calm.  “I knew in my heart that there would be some obstacle that prevented me from returning.”  She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with the heel of her hand.  “I… I can safely say I did all I could, and I…”  Her voice cracked, but she forced herself on.  “I don’t blame you, Princess.  You… you kept your word.”  She paused and tried to force down her grief.  “Then… I have only one thing more to ask.”

   “If I can provide it, I would, gladly,” Allura replied.

   “You can’t.”  She looked up at Shiro.  “But he can.”

   “Wait, what?” Lance whispered down at Keith.  “What is it?”

   “I don’t know.  She didn’t say anything else.”

   Lance peeked over the rail again and made a puzzled sound as he watched Miela kneel on the ballroom floor.

   “What’s she doing?” Keith asked, raising up on his knees to see over the balcony rail.

   “I dunno.  I don’t like this, all of a sudden.”

   The woman swept her auburn hair to her left side and lowered her head, exposing the back of her neck.  Shiro took two steps forward, until he stood over her, and with the slightest flex of his arm, the prosthetic lit up.

   Lance gasped and nearly launched himself over the bannister.  “No… Miel-!”

   Keith grabbed the hood of Lance’s jacket and pulled until Lance toppled sideways, into him, sending the two of them sprawling. 

   Miela looked up at the small sound, and then wondered privately if she was hearing things.  She looked at Shiro, whose eyes were serious and sad.

   “Keep your head down,” he said gently.  “I don’t want to miss.”

   Keith wrapped an arm across Lance’s chest and clapped his hand over his friend’s mouth.  “Dude, shut up!  You’re going to get us caught!”

   Lance fought Keith’s hand away.  “He’s going to kill her!”

   “He’s not going to kill her, you idiot,” Keith hissed in his ear.  “This is Shiro we’re talking about.”

   “Oh, yeah, says the guy who spent yesterday afternoon having an existential crisis about the man,” Lance scoffed.

   “My ‘crisis’ had nothing to do with whether or not he would kill someone in cold blood,” Keith informed him.

   “Like quiznak it didn’t!”

   Keith shushed him.  “You gonna watch or not?”

   Lance growled, but quit struggling.  From his position against Keith, he could actually see pretty well between the balusters, so all he had to do was roll sideways to look down into the ballroom.  Keith got to his knees and bent over Lance to watch.

   “I’ll try to make it quick,” Shiro said softly.  He bent slightly and touched Miela’s hair with his bandaged left hand.  “Face me, please.”

   She did as she was told, and then went perfectly still.

   Shiro drew back, and gave one precise swing of his arm.

   “Miela…” Lance said under his breath.

   There was a fragile metallic crunching sound as her collar hit the floor.

   Relief poured over the two eavesdroppers as they realized what had just been done.  

   Shiro quickly picked up the hem of the borrowed nightgown and tore a shred from it to place on the thin cut he had left along Miela’s neck.  “Here.  Hold that there for a tick.”

   She reached up and held the cloth against the cut.  “It’s fine.  I didn’t feel anything.”

   Shiro knelt next to her.  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.  Just let me take care of you, okay?”

   Keith sat back and breathed a sigh, and Lance pushed himself up on his knees.

   “Okay,” Keith admitted.  “That actually did have me scared for a few ticks.”  He looked at Lance.  “ _Now_ can we get out of here before they catch us?”

   “Yeah,” Lance said shakily.  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture time!  
> [Dude, Shut up!](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Dude-Shut-up-670496590) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	38. “We All Need Saving” - Jon McLaughlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela takes the news as best she can, and Shiro and Allura talk about what happens next

   Miela slowly reached down and picked the broken collar up off the floor.  After four years, it felt strange not to have it around her neck.  She looked at it, and then at the swatch of cloth Shiro had torn from the bottom of her gown.  She wasn’t bleeding _that_ much, she thought.  The collar had left a ring of coarse scar tissue around her neck, through which she could feel very little.  But she pressed the cloth to the little cut and allowed Shiro to help her to her feet anyway.

   “I nearly broke my thumb on that thing,” Shiro remarked softly.  “How’s it feel to have it off?”

   “Strange,” Miela said.  “Lighter, maybe.”  Her tone was still soft, as if she couldn’t feel the whole flood of emotions at once, so she had decided not to feel anything at all.  “I don’t know yet.”

   Shiro put his hand on her shoulder.  “It’ll hit you later, so just let me know if you need anything.”

   Miela met his gaze once, and then looked solemnly at the floor.  “I… I need time to think.”

   “I understand.”  He looked at the collar in her hands, but didn’t offer to take it from her.  It was a piece of her, to keep or to dispose of as she saw fit.

   Allura spoke up.  “The mission plans are almost complete.  We’ll breach the atmosphere in a matter of vargas, and then we’ll begin.  I know you won’t be able to join the paladins, but… you will let us know who you’re searching for, won’t you?”  She lowered her gaze.  “We really would like to help in any way we can.” 

   Miela studied her; the princess still looked disheartened at having let her friend down.

   “How much longer, then?” she asked.

   Allura looked up at her.  “The shipment arrives tomorrow.  We don’t know when.”

   Miela let out a tear-soaked sigh, and then sniffed and rubbed her eyes.  “I need to think… I just… I’m sorry.”  She gently slid out from under Shiro’s hand, and turned for the door.

   “Filomena,” Allura called to her.

   Miela stopped, but didn’t turn around.

   The princess stared at her back.  “I know.  I think I know now what you’re searching for, so I hope you believe me when I say I feel your pain.  And if I were in your shoes, I would do whatever it took; walk across the surface of a star, or destroy any obstacle in my path, risking life and limb…”  She took a deep breath.  “But I’m begging you, not as a princess, but as your friend… Don’t do anything stupid.”

   The woman acknowledged her by slightly turning her head.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  And then she walked out of the ballroom.

   Shiro made a move to go after her, but Allura touched his arm.  “Let her go, Shiro.”

   He stopped and looked at the princess.  “Allura?”

   “She needs time.  Time to think, time to plan… Whatever she’s going to do.”

   Shiro turned to face her again.  “Time is one thing we don’t have much of,” he replied.  His tone of voice made her empathy muscles flex involuntarily.  “I know she’s hurting.  I do.  I also _don’t_ know her state of mind, and I’d like to know for sure that she’s not a danger to herself.”

   She gave him a disapproving look, as if she wasn’t entirely certain that was what was really on his mind.  “She’s very sane, of that I’m sure.  She has no reason to endanger us, and even less of a reason to hurt herself.”

   “What makes you say that?”

   Allura looked at him straight.  “Yes, she’s hurting.  I could even say _grieving_.”  She turned and stared after the woman.  “But she’s not done anything without a reason.  Hurting herself serves no purpose.  She seems to care a great deal what others think of her, and at this point, self-harm would only make her look like a child throwing a tantrum.”

   “That’s kind of a simplistic way to look at her.”

   Allura harrumphed.  “I think she prefers it that way.  And you know, I think I do, too.”

   Shiro raised one eyebrow.  “That would make me really suspicious at first.”

   “I was, if you recall.”  She smirked.  “But Miela wants us to see a person completely free of pretense, and that takes time and trust.”

   “And do you trust her?”

   The princess hummed thoughtfully.  “I’m starting to.”

   Shiro frowned.  “Then why does she _insist_ upon hiding her mission goal?  That’s something we need to know before we finish planning the mission if we’re going to help her.”

   “Had you not considered that perhaps she’s not hiding the goal, so much as she’s hiding its importance?” the princess asked.  “Her object is to _blend_ her mission with ours, not override it!”

   “What is there left to blend?” Shiro asked, his voice beginning to rise in frustration.  “Our entire mission revolves around her now!”  Ah, so _that’s_ what was really on his mind.

   That comment raised Allura’s hackles, and she barked at him without meaning to.  “You’re making her into a _distraction_!”  She had snapped at him before she realized that what she had said was true.  When it hit her, her eyes widened, and her face went slack.  She considered the thought.  Was _that_ what had been bothering her this entire time?  She touched her chin in thought, and then sighed.  “We all like her, Shiro.  But don’t delude yourself into thinking she is the only reason you’re going back to Aepsis.”

   When she was sure Shiro wouldn’t reply, the princess started for the door.  “I’ll give her until midnight to confirm details with me.  After that, we’ll have no choice but to ignore her mission plans entirely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now remember Allura's last reprimand for next chapter. You'll thank me later.


	39. “The Shape of You” - Ed Sheeran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Filomena finally come to an understanding

   Normally, Shiro had no problem waiting.  But something about their guest had suddenly rendered him on-edge and impatient.  He wanted to know what to do.  He wanted to be able to help.  But more than anything, he wanted answers.  He needed to know what could possibly be making him feel and act this way, so he could go back to being his comfortable self instead of this… _hormonal teenage boy_.  Good grief, was that what he was really acting like?

   He tried to push her from his mind over the course of the next few vargas, during which time he tried to be productive.  The plans for the mission were almost set, and he knew them so well that even discussing them had become _boring_.  All there was left to plan was minutiae, and if their unbearably annoying tech analyst had anything to say about it, that could be safely left in eight very capable paws.  He rubbed his face.  That is, he reminded himself, as long as Allura could remind Slav to keep his brain focused on _this_ reality.  And speaking of which…

   “Shiro.  Hey, Shiro.”

   He looked up at Pidge and hummed in question.  “Yes?”

   “You look a little out of it.  Are you okay?”

   Shiro shook his head and tried to focus his eyes on the plans spread out in front of him.  “Yeah.  I’m just tired.  I didn’t sleep last night.”  He looked at the table.  “There was too much going on in my head.”

   “I’ll bet there was,” she murmured.  The green paladin pulled the plans over in front of her.  “Why don’t you go lie down?” she suggested.  “You know this stuff backwards and forwards anyway.”

   He sighed and looked up at the other paladins, who were all giving him worried stares.  “That sounds like a great idea, actually.”  He rose from the table and rubbed the tired blur from his eyes.  “I’ll see you guys in a few vargas.  Wake me up if something happens.”

   He trudged from the room, and with a sinking feeling began to realize that he was too tense to sleep.  He could go up to the pool for a swim, or run the track, or do a few more pushups in his quarters…  But the next moment he looked up, he was standing in front of the training room.

   Well, that wasn’t a bad idea either.  He opened the door and was surprised to hear the sounds of battle coming from within.  Wait just a quiznaking tick.  The remainder of the crew were all discussing mission plans.  Shiro felt sweat bead under his collar as he realized who was in there with the gladiator.

   He hurried into the training room to see the gladiator crossing weapons with the woman.  She was dressed in a ragged tunic and leggings that she must have brought with her from Aepsis, and was armed with a pair of odd-looking sticks with handles that jutted vertically from her fists.  Were those tonfa?  He hadn’t seen anyone use those things in ages!  She seemed to be keeping up with the bot on what looked like a level three training sequence.  That is, until she let her frustration run wild and tried to strike out of turn.

   Shiro saw it coming from across the room and sprinted to put himself between Miela and the gladiator.  It swept her feet out from under her in a smooth spin, and then raised its staff over its head.

   The black paladin activated his prosthetic and pointed his fingers up under the droid’s chin.  It paused as it recognized the presence of a new opponent.  “End training sequence!” Shiro barked.

   The gladiator lowered its staff, and its small green LED light went off.

   Miela picked herself up off the floor and turned her hands palm outward, still holding both tonfa.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

   Shiro spun on her.  “I should ask you the same thing,” he said.  “We expressly warned you about this!  You’re going to hurt yourself!”

   “I’m a big girl, Shiro,” she said tersely.  “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

   Shiro folded his arms.  “I _was_ going to,” he said.

   “What are you even doing here?” she asked.  “Surely you have better things to do than save damsels in distress.”  She twirled the tonfa in her left hand once, and then scratched an itch on her right arm with her thumbnail.

   The black paladin groaned and rubbed his eyes with both hands.  “Don’t remind me.  I’m so tired of looking at those quiznaking plans, I can see them on the insides of my eyelids.”

   She harrumphed.  “Yeah, well, I can’t help you, there.”  She turned her nose up at him.  “All I seem to be good for is adding complications.”

   “Oh, stop,” Shiro grumbled irritatedly.  “We said we’d do what we could to help you.  What’s with this attitude of yours?”

   “I’m _angry_ , Shiro!  And I’m sorry, but you seem to be the only person who doesn’t get why!”

   “So why are you taking it out on _me_?”

   “Because you _want_ me to!” she yelled.  “You want me to be able to confide in you, to tell you what’s wrong, and I’m frustrated because you already _know_ , and I’m just repeating myself!”

   “Then _for once_ , why don’t you be straight with me?” he asked.  “I don’t know if you know this yet, but I can’t read your mind!”

   She sighed, and then sniffed.  “I did know that,” she said.  She rubbed her nose.  “I was doing fine until you got here.  Now, you’ve shut down my training sequence, and look at me.  I’m falling apart.”  She exhaled a tired growl and swallowed her tears.  “Are you going to step in for the gladiator, or am I moving on to level four?”

   Shiro frowned at her, but there was a hint of sadness in the expression.  “Please don’t.”

   She looked up at him.  “I need this, Shiro,” she whispered desperately.  “I need a way out.”

   “You have a way out,” he said, a little more softly.  “This isn’t it.”

   She studied him for two more ticks, and then she spun both tonfa.  “Begin training level four.”

   Shiro had had enough.  Standing between Miela and the gladiator, the black paladin had the perfect position to wheel around and slash the droid’s head from its shoulders in a flash of violet.  He spun and parried a blow the woman had aimed at his head, and then he skillfully turned off the caustic energy in his hand, hooked his arm around her, and tossed her across the training ground with all his strength.

   “Enough!” he snapped.

   Miela picked herself up off the floor, but she wasn’t fast enough to widen the distance between them again.  Shiro put a hand on her chest and shoved her backward, keeping her off-balance and unable to strike back until she hit the wall.  Miela frantically slapped his hands away, trying to parry her way out of his grip.

   “What are you hiding?” the black paladin growled.  “I can’t even _tell_ you how tired I am of guessing.”  He grabbed both her hands and pinned them above her head in his right hand’s unyielding grip.

   Miela squeaked in panic.  “Shiro, stop!”

   “Why?” he shouted.  “Why do you want to go back there so badly?  What is it down there that’s worth your _life_?”

   That particular phrase earned him a look of animalistic defiance.  Miela scowled up at him and spat out a word that didn’t translate.  “ _Vaffanculo_.”

   Shiro didn’t know a lot of Italian, but he had learned that particular word early on, and it didn’t bear translating.  He gritted his teeth and finally lowered his voice.  “They took my right arm,” he snarled.  “What did they take from you?”

   “ _Vaffanculo_.”  She began struggling in his grip.

   Shiro jerked her hands higher, until she was barely standing on the tips of her toes and she couldn’t struggle as hard.  “What did they take from you?” he bellowed.

   “My _child_!” Miela finally screamed.  “They took my _child_!”  She inhaled a high-pitched gasp and heaved a ragged breath as her tears finally spilled over her lashes and onto her cheeks.

   Shiro’s expression went slack in surprise.  All the secrets, all the hints seemed to come crashing down on him then; her unwavering resolve, her kindness, her protectiveness, her fighting spirit…  Then there were the screams of agony he had heard when they had first started testing her.  It wasn’t psychological torture; it was the voice of her baby.  It even explained the short patch of hair above her left temple: it hadn’t been shorn; it had _fallen out_.  He stared at her for almost a full dobosh before his eyes slowly wandered down her front.  He gingerly took the fabric of her tunic in the fingers of his left hand and slowly lifted it above her waist.

   He wasn’t sure what he was looking for until he found it; a long, straight scar across the flat plane of her stomach.  Allura’s diagnosis of her condition flashed through his head.

   “A Caesarian,” he murmured.  “Is that…?”  His eyes took on a deep sadness.  “Is that why you’re doing this to yourself?” he asked.  “You’re… you’re _punishing_ yourself for leaving?”  His soft, slate-gray eyes met hers.  “Filomena…”

   The sound of her name seemed to only fluster her more.  He released her wrists, and she immediately attacked him.  He brushed off the first few strikes before he realized that the blows weren’t meant to injure him.  She wasn’t fighting like a champion; right now, with only Shiro to witness it, Filomena was just a frustrated, devastated young mother.

   She slapped at him and hammered his chest until Shiro wrapped her snugly in both arms, which finally immobilized her.  “Easy,” Shiro insisted.  “Calm down.”

   Miela… no, _Filomena_ , he decided, put her head on his chest and muffled a soul-torn scream in the fabric of his vest.  It was so high and so powerful that he could feel the vibration of her voice and the heat of her breath through his clothes.

   But after that, he could feel her slowly giving up.  Her shoulders relaxed, and then her arms, and finally her fingers released their claw-like grip on him, until all that was left was the soft tremor of her body as she wept against him.

   “I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered.  He was searching for words that might soothe Filomena’s frayed emotions, but at the moment all that came to mind were all the ways he had been wrong about her.  “I misjudged you.”  He stroked her hair, and then allowed himself to press his cheek to the crown of her head.  “I misjudged _everything_ about you.”

   He could have asked anything, she thought; why she had hidden her identity, her mission… but he didn’t.  He just stood there, holding her like she _mattered_ to him.  For some reason, that realization made her cry harder.

   “I’m so, so sorry.”

   When her tears had run dry, Filomena raised her head off Shiro’s chest.

   “Are you feeling better?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

   He was close; so close that she could make out the delicate shimmer of each white strand of hair.

   “I… I think so.”

   He smiled.  There was something tentative- no, _shy-_ about the expression.  “You think so?”  The smile broadened a little.  “You don’t know?”

   Filomena felt her face grow warm, and she looked down, into his chest.  “Well, I… I guess I got distracted.”

   He laughed under his breath.  “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

   The young woman wiped her face with the heels of her hands, and felt the distance between them widen again.  Why did it have to be this way?  She really was starting to feel better; why did he have to push away _now_?

   “How do you do it?” she asked.

   Shiro made a puzzled sound.  “Hm?”

   “How do you go every day without breaking down?  How do you fight of the… the _crippling_ anxiety?”  She pressed her hands to her eyes to try to keep herself from bursting into tears again.

   Shiro gently gripped her shoulders.  “Some days, it’s just luck.  I’m not perfect.  I have bad days.”

   She looked up at him.  “What do you do?”

   He smirked.  “What you’re doing now; I lean on someone I trust.”  He cocked his head, white forelock shifting to the right with his movement.  His smile faded, as if he were carefully considering his next move.  Shiro raised his right hand and cautiously slid its soft, black finger pads behind her ear, brushing the longer wisps into place and hiding the thin patch above her temple.  “You’re never alone, Filomena.”

   Thanks to the alien technology, he could feel the silken threads of her hair and the delicate curve of her face against his prosthetic, but it felt tainted somehow.  A bittersweet feeling pinched his chest.  He should be able to feel this with his own hand, not an attachment forced on him by the Galra.

   He let his hand drop from her face.  “Let me know if you’d like to talk some more, okay?”  He turned and took a step away.

   “Shiro?”

   He looked at her over his shoulder.  “Yes?”

   “Do you ever…?”  She paused and looked at her hands.

   Shiro turned to face her again.  “What is it?”

   Filomena looked up at him with a determined expression.  “Do you ever get distracted?”  She said it, and then the determination left her face, and she looked down again, embarrassed.

   For a moment, he studied her, eyes wide as the tension inside his chest intensified.  He was starting to realize what that feeling was; a smoldering ember that was always threatening to flare and catch his surrounding soul on fire.  And she was kindling, just out of reach, teasing the cinders like dry leaves.

   Shiro sighed.  Quiznak.  Allura was right.  He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but there was no avoiding it now; not if he ever wanted to be honest with himself ever again.  He stepped toward her.

   When a pair of black boots met her bare feet toe-to-toe, Filomena looked up at him.  He studied her features for a moment, and then bent toward her.  Shiro’s white hair tickled her forehead, and then his mouth met hers.

   Of all the responses she had anticipated, _that_ was not on the list.  But that was not to say it wasn’t appropriate… or very much appreciated.  The kiss was gentle and soft, and Shiro deftly slid his fingers back over her jaw, cradling her ear in the space between his thumb and forefinger. 

   The spark between them refused to be sated with just one kiss.  Filomena’s lips parted slightly to let him in, and he answered by wrapping his left arm around her and pulling her closer.  She let her hands wander up his chest and over his shoulders, and an electric thrill went through her at the little sigh he made when she traced her fingers through the short hair on the back of his neck.

   Shiro pushed her backward, into the wall, and pinned her there with his body.  He could feel her warmth, now, soaking through the ragged tunic and into his abdomen.  He tried to pull her in, pressing her close until she gasped and let out a small sound that set every one of his nerves ablaze.

   “Shiro…”  Even the sound of his name had heat to it.  Her voice was breathless and full of need.

   He captured her lips again.  The way she said his name told him she wanted nothing else.  His right hand trailed down her back until it reached her hip, where it came to rest, fingers digging longingly into her flesh.

   Her right knee collided with his left, and she made a noise in her throat and repositioned her leg outside his.  He shifted farther into her, his hips meeting hers and creating hot friction between them.

   Filomena broke their kiss with a gasp, and Shiro responded with a low moan.  That was it.  He had to stop.  He paused, panting and still pressed against her, and gave her a shy smile.  He bent his forehead against hers, and that felt almost more intimate than the kissing- he was touching her for no other reason than that he wanted to.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to indulge that particular desire.  

   “Filomena,” he breathed, “I _am_ distracted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course there are pictures for this chapter! I wouldn't leave you guys hanging!  
> [Enough is Enough](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Enough-is-Enough-676042425) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  
> [Distracted](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Distracted-676049473) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	40. “Mirrors” - Justin Timberlake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro asks Filomena to share her story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Allusions to torture and rape/non-con.

   “Tell me everything,” Shiro whispered.

   He had turned the lights down, and that had brought them close to getting in trouble again.  But Shiro was insistent upon her telling her story, if a little more gently so.  There were things he needed to know sooner rather than later.  So they sat together on the floor of his quarters, her back against his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder and both arms wrapped around her waist. 

   She had never been so scared.  It wasn’t Shiro that scared her; not really.  It was wondering what he might think of her once she told him the truth.  “Shiro,” she murmured.  She turned her head slightly, and felt him press his lips to the spot beneath her ear.  She whimpered and felt him tease the skin along her waistline with his fingertips.

   “Hiding things isn’t working out for you,” he said, a note of irony in his voice.  “In the grand scheme, the things you hid were… almost _infuriatingly_ inconsequential.”  He squeezed her.  “I’m not asking you to announce it to the universe.  Just tell _me_.”

   Filomena took a deep breath.  “If I cry again, I’m blaming you.”

   He let out a warm chuckle in her ear.  “Fine.”

   She counted four beats to inhale, and then slowly let the breath back out.  “It wasn’t like the movies,” she said.  “That soft light that raises you from your bed, like you’re drifting on moonlight.”  She shook her head.  “I don’t really comprehend the… the sequence of events that led up to my abduction.”  She swallowed.  “I was just out of college, and I had a pretty good job…”

   “What did you do?” he asked.

   She glanced at him.  “I moonlighted as a music tutor, but my day job was a gunsmith, believe it or not.”

   He laughed, his chest shaking gently under her.  “I believe it.  Go on.”

   She pursed her mouth in thought.  “It’s really cliché.  I came home early and found my boyfriend…”  She coughed gently.  “Otherwise engaged.”  She shrugged.  “So I left.  I didn’t even think about how little I cared about the things I left behind.  It took me a long time to realize I didn’t care about _him_ either.”  She folded her arms across her front, on top of his.  “So I set myself up in a hotel room, and went out that night.  I had dinner, and then went to a club.”  She harrumphed.  “First time in forever.  I had a drink, and left sober, but really late.  And… that’s where it gets fuzzy.”

   Shiro felt her swallow her tension as her body shuddered.  He lifted his chin and bent to kiss her shoulder.  “It’s okay,” he murmured.  “Take your time.”  She looked at him, and he took a moment to interrupt her story with a soft kiss on the mouth.

   That seemed to reassure her, and she swallowed and leaned against him again.  “I woke up in chains,” she said, her voice tight with shame.  “They… they had me strip, all the way to the skin, and…”  She shook her head slightly.  “ _Processed_ me, like an animal on its way to slaughter.”

   “I know,” Shiro whispered.  “I remember.”  She felt him breathe a sigh into her ear.  “The cold hose-down, with the sprayer turned on so hard the water felt like needles; the acidic ‘cleansing’ mist that burned my eyes, my nose, and anything else remotely sensitive; the worn-out clothes that never seemed to fit…”  He tangled his fingers in her tunic.  “I’m shocked you still wear yours.”

   Filomena shrugged.  “The only thing I can figure is that, when they picked me up, their operation was still small enough that they could find something that actually fit me.”

   Shiro harrumphed.  “Must have been nice.”

   She smirked and nudged him with her elbow.  “Yes, along with daily room service and chocolates on my down pillows.”  She didn’t begrudge him that streak of dark humor; it was what had kept them alive and mostly sane in their captivity.

   He hummed.  “Go on.”

   She swallowed again.  “I don’t know what made me so special to them…  Maybe it was the fact that I fought, constantly.  That got me some good beatings.”  She laughed under her breath, but Shiro could tell she was suppressing the rage those memories recalled; he could hear it in her voice.  Then something about her tone softened.  “They decided I was meant to fight; I could make them money in the arena, fighting champions like you.  So, they had me train.  One of my trainers was a sweet man; a human from the Southeastern part of America.  Alabama, I think it was.  We were fast friends.  He was the first to start calling me ‘Honey’.  He used to tell me, ‘No matter what, don’t let them ruin you’.”  She smiled sadly, as if she had only recently realized what that had meant.  Then she heaved a sigh.  “The other was… barbaric; a Galra male, and a complete tyrant.  Don’t get me wrong, I learned from him… but he was not kind.”

   “What happened?”  

   A tremor went down her back, and Shiro pressed his hands deeper into her belly, as if he could feel her desire to run.  “The latter killed the former.  They got into an argument and…”  She stopped there.  “So… I attacked him.”  She shook her head at her own stupidity.  “Twice my size, and probably three times the muscle mass…”

   Shiro smirked into her hair.  “I would’ve done the same thing.”

   She harrumphed.  “You might’ve won.”

   He picked his head up off her shoulder.  “W-wait.  You _lost_?”

   Filomena was quiet for a moment.  “Yeah.”  She sat forward and gently pushed Shiro’s hands from her waist, and then pulled her legs under her.

   “Filomena?”

   She reached both arms behind her head and pulled her tunic over her head, revealing the bare skin of her back.  Shiro stared, stupefied for a moment, until he looked down and let out a gasp.  Four parallel scars, shaped like claw marks, dug trenches in her skin.

   “Oh… my…”

   “Yeah.  I lost.”  She pulled the shirt back over her head and let the hem pool around her waist once more.  “I’ve lost matches before.  I’ve lost fights.  But this…”  She shook her head.  “Winning wasn’t enough for him.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes.  “What do you mean?  I don’t unders-”  He stopped when it hit him, and his face creased in horror.  He did know what she meant.  He did understand, after all.  The answer came out in a whisper.  “Your baby…”

   Filomena braced her hands on her knees.  There.  He knew everything, now.  Would he shove her away now, and try to forget the things that had brought them closer?  Could he even bear to touch her again?  “He… he tried to ruin me.”

   “Oh my god… Filomena…”

   Those were the last words he spoke for several ticks.  He sat in appalled silence while all the information registered.  Her trainer had raped her.  Then a second, slightly more manageable thought; her child was half-human, half Galra, just like Keith.  And then a third, wonderfully pleasing thought; she was still trying to rescue her baby.

   He smirked.  He knew what to say.  

   She felt his hands run back up, over her shoulders.  He pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into him as if he had missed her warmth in the few ticks they had been apart.

   “Looks like he failed.”

   She sighed.  “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”  Even so, she nestled into him, grateful for his acceptance.

   Shiro blinked.  “You were beaten, tortured, raped, and yet you still have your identity, your personality.  And, in spite of its origins, you _love_ your child.”

   Filomena harrumphed.  “That last part is true, at least.”

   “Hey.”  Shiro cocked his head, and she turned and looked into his eyes.  “He failed, Filomena.  They all failed.”

   She studied his features, trying to perceive if there was some sarcasm in what he had just said.  But, no matter how she tried, the only thing she saw in his eyes was _wonder_.  She found herself getting lost in that look; his pride and amazement in her could be communicated in his gaze alone.  She slowly bent and kissed him again, unable to resist any more.


	41. “Dust to Dust” - The Civil Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Filomena continue to bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, anyone who made it to this chapter; I freaking LOVE this chapter's song. Listen to it.

   He let her lead.  

   It was terrifying, in its own way.  Just letting her pull the zipper down his chest felt like a wall collapsing between them; a vulnerability he knew she understood a little too well.  But he was curious, as well.  What did she expect to discover?  Or did she really hold no expectations of him?  Wouldn’t that be nice?

   He shrugged the vest off over his shoulders, and then reached up to touch her face.  She nuzzled the palm of his right hand, and for the first time, he realized he _liked_ it.  The touch, the warmth, even the entire prosthetic.  He hated what the Galra had done to him, hated that they took away a piece of himself… but he loved the feeling.  Her soft skin, the gently rounded curve of her cheekbone, and the slightly sharper angle of her jaw; if there was one thing for which he had ever been grateful to the Galra, it was this moment.  Right here.  Right now.  And when she turned and kissed the base of his palm, he felt it; he felt a little zing shoot up his arm and pierce his chest, sweet and hot.

   He tucked his knee underneath him and pushed himself forward, into a kiss.

   She cupped the back of his hand, and then slowly let her palm drag up his arm.  She tugged the frayed edges of his sleeve out from under the metal plates and twisted her fingers in the threadbare fabric as he positioned both hands on her slender waist.

   Her arm brushed the back of his left hand, and he made a noise of discomfort and drew away.

   She looked down at his hand, and then gingerly took it in hers.  She studied it; really paid attention to all the little lines on his knuckles, traced the grooves in his palm, and tugged lovingly at the tips of each finger, sending that familiar tingling back up his arm.  Had she injured him again?  He didn’t think so…  Her fingers traced the splint over his thumb, tickled a line over the ball of his hand, and then closed gently on the cuff of his sleeve.  She pulled the fabric over the back of his hand, carefully avoiding his injury, but stopped when she realized the sleeve wasn’t as elastic as she had thought. 

   Shiro watched her intently.  He could almost see what was going on in her head; she was trying to memorize things about him.  The scars on his knuckles, and the shape of his arms… Every move was slow and fascinated; sensual, certainly, but not inherently sexual.

   She drew close, her nose to his chest, and breathed him in.  He smelled clean, almost metallic, with a hint of salt on the finish.

   Shiro caught on to the idea and bent slightly, touching his nose to the nape of her neck.  She was earthy, but not dirty, sweet like overripe fruit, and strong, like Madeira wine.  He pressed his lips to her skin, and his heart sped up.  Warm… could he please just hold her to him and soak her in?

   She found the hem of his shirt and pulled until she could fit her hands in the gap between cloth and skin.  Her little hands were like warm water; they flowed over the curve of his waist and up the slope of his ribs, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as his skin grew cold in their absence.

   Shiro allowed her to pull the shirt over his head, and then he was against her again, lips on hers, letting her hands memorize the facets of his muscles and joints, and the tickle of the sparse hair in the center of his chest.

   He couldn’t take much more of this.  He wrapped his arms around her, and then planted his right foot and rolled them both easily onto his cot, with her on top of him.  As soon as they came to a halt, he craned his neck upward for more.  He felt her fingers in his hair, and then a tug as she tilted his head backward, exposing his throat.  He hummed thoughtfully.  So he wasn’t the only one with a particular liking for pulse points.

   But when she played her lips along his jugular, he couldn’t help it; he let out his breath.  “Filomena,” he whispered.  

   She didn’t ignore him, but her response was to open her mouth and press her teeth into the spot.  

   Shiro’s breath caught.  He could feel the tension rising in his hips and legs as desire pulsed through him.  His hands found her waist, and fought the tangle of rags to reach her skin.  He needed to feel her.  Then the smooth, plush skin met his fingertips.  She was so _soft_.  Was all of her like that?  He started inching his fingers up her figure, over her back and up into her shoulder blades.  Yes, she was.  Even the scars on her back were smooth, and gave way when he pressed his fingers into them.  At this angle, he could almost match his fingers to the marks.

   Her kisses trailed down to his shoulders and back up again, fingers busily scanning his body for the imperfections that made him _him_ , and teasing his nerves until he wasn’t sure there were still scars there.  

   But when she finally discovered the hernia scar that rose just above his belt, Shiro lost control.  He gasped and bucked his hips, raising her off the cot for a moment before rolling over on top of her.

   She looked startled for a moment, and he stopped to catch his breath.  “Sorry… I…”

   “Don’t be.”  She smirked.  “I’m enjoying this.”  She reached up and cupped his face in both slender hands.

   Shiro propped himself up on his elbows.  “Oh?” he asked, bending to kiss her mouth.  “And what is _this_?  What are we doing?” he asked, a little too solemnly.

   She lowered one eyebrow at him.  “Are you seriously asking me if this was part of my _plan_?” she asked with a smirk.  

   Quiznak.  Her hands were still exploring him.  He could too easily become addicted to that touch.  He mirrored her expression.  “Was it?”

   She laughed softly.  “My plan veered wildly off-course when Allura informed me I would be staying behind.  I haven’t made another yet.”

   “I suppose that’s comforting.”

   She gave him a mildly offended laugh, and then dug her dainty little fingers into his ribs.

   “No!”  Shiro yelped and pulled himself up on his knees, grabbing at her hands and trying not to laugh out loud.  

   She sat up after him.  “I never hear you laugh like this, Shiro.”

   He was still trying to catch her hands.  How was she so _fast_?  “Not fair!  That’s cheating!”

   “Cheating?” she laughed.  “Exactly _what_ am I cheating at?”

   Shiro finally caught her hands and pinned them above her head, against his pillow.  “You’re going to start something you can’t finish.”

   She was still laughing.  “Oh?  What might that be?”

   Shiro’s smile faded.  I might fall for you.  I might want something you can’t give, or don’t want to give.  But that wasn’t the thought that hurt the most.  “I’m going to have to watch you leave…” he said, leaving the incomplete thought hanging between them.

   Her smile softened in understanding.  Then the slyness came back to her face, and crept into her voice.  “Anyone can start something, and anyone can finish.  Only skilled lovers can keep the foreplay going indefinitely.”

   He gave her a dry look.  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

   “I know what you meant,” she said, her smile going back to being soothing.  “Can’t we apply it here?”  The smile faded.  “I don’t want this to be over, Shiro.”  He released her hands, and she raised them both to cup his face.  

   He looked at her full lips, still swollen with longing.  “I don’t either,” he whispered.  He lowered himself back onto her.  Without his shirt, he could feel her figure much more acutely.  She wasn’t skin and bones, but also didn’t have much in the way of “padding.”  That was fine.  She fit against him so well, he couldn’t help but wonder how else they could fit.  He pressed a deep kiss into her mouth, but she broke off with a gasp as he rocked his hips into hers.

   “Was that what you meant?” Shiro asked.  

   She frowned at him.  “Now _that’s_ cheating.”

   He lowered his chin to nibble the sweet skin on her throat, and felt her wrap her arms around his neck again, fingers playing up into his hair.  He pressed gently against her again, and she moaned in his ear.

   “S-Shiro… if you don’t stop…”

   “That’s not my name.”  He picked his head up, so that he was nose-to-nose with her.  He waited until her breathing slowed just a little, and teased her lips with his own.  “I’m giving it to you, for your voice alone.”  He smiled against her.  “If you don’t want this to end, you might want to get used to saying it, Filomena.”

   She met his gaze, and craned upward for a short kiss.  “Very well,” she whispered.  “Takashi.”


	42. “Just a Kiss” - Lady Antebellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filomena finishes her story

   Over the next hour, he taught her to say his name. There were things it was too soon for, things that the two of them could stand the longing for, and that was fine. Her breath against his chest was enough, the softness of her lips against whatever skin they touched, his own name ringing in his ears on the pleading sound of her voice. He could get used to this. Was that a bad thing? It could be, he reasoned, but it might be too late to think about that.  
   He was still trying to force reason into his mind over the scent of her hair when Filomena turned her head and looked for something in the room. “What time is it?”  
   Shiro chuckled. “Snap your fingers.”  
   She looked puzzled at him for a moment, then reached her right hand into the air and snapped. A screen came on at the back wall of the room, showing a digital readout in Arabic numerals. “That’s pretty cool,” she said with a laugh. “Did Pidge set this up for you?”  
   He nodded. “It’s in castle time, too. It uses vargas and doboshes.”  
   “What’s it say?”  
   Shiro’s eyes went wide. “You can’t read the clock?”  
   She shook her head. “My eyes are pretty bad,” she said. “On Earth, I used to wear glasses.”  
   “I never would’ve guessed.” He smiled. “I bet you looked really good in them.”  
   She folded her arm over his waist again. “I don’t know. I never liked them.” She sighed into the bend of his collarbone. “I was decidedly unpopular in school, and I thought my glasses were part of the problem.”  
   “Yeah, but you were a kid,” Shiro said. “Kids are just awkward like that. I know I was. Just look at the rest of my team. They’re perfect examples.”  
   She tittered at the thought. “I did notice that.”  
   “But you,” Shiro said, turning over and pinning her again. “You could easily pull off the sexy librarian look. You’re as charming as a cat.”  
   She smiled. “Miao.” Then she let out that shy laugh again. “No, wait. ‘Nyaa’.” She curled both hands into paw shapes.  
   It was Shiro’s turn to laugh. Then he grimaced and touched his head.  
   “Are you all right?”  
   He smiled tiredly at her. “I’ve been awake for about thirty-six hours.”  
   Filomena pushed herself up on her elbows. “What? Why?” Then comprehension washed across her face. “You stayed up all night?” She traced her fingers over his ear. “Takashi…”  
   He smirked and looked away. “I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he murmured.  
   She pushed herself up a little farther to kiss him, sweetly. “Once was enough.” She pulled herself out from under him, back against the head of the bunk. “Here. Lie down.”  
   Shiro obeyed, resting his head on her lap. “What are you going to do?”  
   “Something else I’m good at,” she purred.  
   He harrumphed. “There’s that feline thing again,” he murmured with a smile. She cupped the base of his head with both hands, gently pressing the tips of her fingers into the back of his neck. The pressure cut Shiro’s thoughts off as easily as he had cut down the gladiator. It felt good. He opened is mouth, but a soft moan came out in place of whatever he was supposed to have said.  
   “Don’t do that too much,” the young woman said with a low chuckle. “I might want you to make that sound more often.”  
   Shiro smiled and relaxed into her hands. “You could do that any time you wanted.” Her fingers pressed divots into the tops of his shoulders, making his breath hitch. Pain first, and then a pleasing sense of release followed her down his neck and into his back. He let out a sigh, and allowed his eyes to drift closed.  
   “So?” she asked.  
   He hummed. “Marry me,” he mumbled.  
   She chuckled warmly. “I would drive you insane.”  
   He raised an eyebrow, eyes still closed. “You already do that.” She laughed again, and he smiled. Shiro opened his eyes and studied the ceiling above his bunk, and his smile faded. He had meant those two words, said in ecstasy. That frightened him a little. “Filomena.”  
   “Yes?”  
   Shiro stopped himself. It was too soon. And he was scared. That was appropriate. This wasn’t “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner,” after all. He smirked, a little sadly, and went on to another topic he had meant to discuss with her. “You never finished your story,” he said.  
   “No, I suppose I didn’t.” She worked her knuckles into the muscles along his neck and smiled when he moaned again. “You’re probably going to start getting dizzy in a minute.”  
   “Thanks for the warning.” He opened his eyes and smiled up at her. “Then you might as well tell me while I’m awake.”  
   She bent and kissed him, upside down. “As you wish.” She thought for a moment. “I began letting them think I was broken,” she said, “you know, like you ‘break’ a stallion for riding.”  
   “As good a ploy as any,” Shiro mumbled. “Let them start to trust you.”  
   “It didn’t take as long as I thought,” she said. “I stopped talking, stopped fighting.” She dragged her fingers up into his hair, hitting muscles he hadn’t even known existed and strumming them like guitar strings. “I started getting sick, and eventually recognized it for what it was. That generally kept me out of the ring. They wanted me to be in good shape for purchase.”  
   Shiro’s forehead creased. “What happened when they figured out you were pregnant?”  
   “Not much, surprisingly. They postponed selling me, had me detail a few specifics to their medic, and then forced old snake-eyes to pull his punches.”  
   “That’s it?”  
   “Most of it. Apparently two potential fighters are better than one. Having a child to train from birth was more than he cared to put on his plate, but the potential for having a half-Galra spy? That idea seemed pretty tempting.” She smirked. “Although, I conveniently neglected to mention the rate at which humans age…”  
   Shiro chuckled under his breath. “I’m sure you got in trouble for that.”  
   She shrugged. “It gave me the chance to correct my trainer on a few unforgivable misconceptions.” She chuckled a little maliciously. “And being sick allowed me the chance to disappear on occasion, to prepare for our escape.”  
   “So you stole that suit.”  
   “I stole that suit, yes. Piece by piece, too, so it’s no wonder it doesn’t fit.”  
   Shiro’s smile widened. “Reminds me of an old Johnny Cash song.”  
   She laughed at that. “‘One Piece at a Time’. I know that one.”  
   “I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew them all.” He made a sound in his throat and touched his head again. “I’m starting to get vertigo.”  
   “Okay, hang on.” She moved her hands up his neck, and Shiro lifted his head. “No, let me.” He let gravity take effect, dropping his head into her lap again. She lifted his skull in both hands, and gently rotated his axis and atlas joints. Shiro heard a faint “click,” and his vision cleared.  
   “Holy crow,” he murmured. He held his hand up in front of his face and examined it, now that the room wasn’t spinning. “How did you do that?”  
   “My father taught me.”  
   He smirked. “If I ever go back to earth, I’ll thank him.” His eyelids were starting to become heavy. “Is fatigue a side-effect?” he asked.  
   “No, _inamorato_. You’re just tired.”  
   He hummed at the slightly unfamiliar term of endearment. “What time is it?”  
   “I can’t see the clock, remember?”  
   Shiro reluctantly opened his eyes and looked up at the clock. “You’ve got a couple vargas to talk to Allura, if you’re going to.”  
   “I should, shouldn’t I?”  
   He made a positive noise. “And, while you’re at it, you should talk to Keith.” She pressed her fingers into a sore spot, and he grunted a little.  
   “Oops! Sorry. I’ll be gentler.” She tried a more delicate touch, and Shiro smiled and let out a sigh. “Hunk was telling me that, too,” she said. “I’m not sure I understand why, though.”  
   Shiro opened one eye and looked at her. “Keith is half Galra.”  
   She stopped, her hands pausing mid-motion, and considered the thought. “That makes more sense, now.” She smiled. “I guess I have nothing to worry about, then, do I? If Keith is any indicator, then my son will turn out just fine.”  
   Shiro harrumphed and closed his eye again. “You should tell him that. It would mean a lot.”  
   She chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”  
   “What happened to your son?” Shiro mumbled.  
   She was quiet for a moment, and then her fingers went back to work along the base of his skull. “My delivery was complicated,” she explained. “The cord got wrapped around his neck, and they had to do a Caesarian. I held him for maybe five minutes before they… the medic took him to be intubated, and I went back into surgery.” She rubbed her hand across her chest. “Whatever they gave me…” She harrumphed. “I never was able to breastfeed. But we made do. But I found out they had planned to sell us separately. I couldn’t let that happen, so I moved my plan forward. I left him with the medic; the one person who might understand that he couldn’t survive on his own yet; and I got out.”  
   Shiro shifted his head on her lap. “I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.” He opened his tired eyes and looked up at her. “But you’re here now. We’ll get him back.”  
   She bent down to him again. “Thank you.” She punctuated her gratitude with soft kisses. “Thank you.”


	43. “Leave Me in the Dark” -  Keri Noble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela comes clean to the rest of the crew, and planning continues

   She somehow made it out of his bed without waking him.  Her footsteps were as close to silent as she could make them; the hiss of the door opening was louder than her.  She tensed, waiting for him to wake up, but he didn’t stir.  She gave a sigh of relief and stepped out of his room.

   “Miela?”

   A thrill ran down her back, and she spun to look at Pidge, who was already in her uniform and carrying her helmet.

   “What are you-?”

   “Sh!”  Miela pressed a finger to her lips and gave the girl a stern look.  She turned and closed the door.  “I just got him to sleep.”

   Pidge gave her a dry look.  “Dare I ask by what means?  Or do I really want to know?”

   “Acupressure therapy,” Miela said shortly.  “My father taught me.”  She cocked an eyebrow at Pidge.  “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

   The girl allowed herself a smile.  “A massage, huh?”  She took two steps closer to her.  “So I guess you two kissed and made up?”

   The woman chuckled, but made no attempt to hide the slight flush that spread across her cheeks.  “That’s one way of putting it.”

   Pidge made a noise of understanding and propped both fists on her hips.  “So, you like Shiro,” she noticed aloud.

   Miela’s face went straight again.  “I never said I disliked him,” she said.  Then she looked at the floor.  “I had been keeping something from him, and he got frustrated at me again.  I can’t say I blame him.”

   “So… you came clean, is that it?”

   Miela looked up at her.  “Yes.  He and I have made amends, and I am on my way to do more of the same.”  She sighed.  “Now that he knows, he can rest easy.  He won’t miss anything at our meeting.”

   “Should I come?”

   The woman smiled at her.  “I insist you do.”

   Pidge fell into step beside her.  “That doesn’t really explain why you looked like you’d just put the baby to sleep,” she grumbled.

   Miela looked at her.  “Did I?”  She thought about it.  “I guess that’s appropriate.”

   Pidge narrowed her eyes at her.  “Exactly how much am I supposed to read into that?”

   “All the way,” Miela said with a chuckle.

   “You’re such an enigma.”  She thought for a moment, allowing her brain permission to assume things about what Miela had said.  Pidge’s expression widened as understanding trickled into her.  “Th-That would mean… you’re a…!”

   Miela laughed under her breath again.  “Come on.  Don’t look so shocked.”

   “Well, pardon me!” she squeaked.  She rubbed her face with both hands.  “Yeesh!  How many epiphanies can you spring on us?” she asked.  “What else have you got up your sleeves?”

   “I’m pretty sure there’s not much left.”

   Pidge’s shoulders sagged in fatigue.  “This is going to break Lance and Keith.”

   “If your assumption is correct, it might.  I warned you all about assuming, though.”

   “You just _told_ me I could read ‘all the way’ into it!” the girl reminded her.  “You can’t do that to me!  My brain does things!”

   “I see that.”  She was still laughing.

   Pidge narrowed her eyes again.  “You’re in a much better mood.”  She smirked.  “Can I read further into _that_?”

   Miela blushed and looked at the floor.  “I almost prefer that you don’t,” she said.  “If you asked, I would tell you, but it would be best if you didn’t assume too much.”  She smiled.  “Let me enjoy it while I can.”

   “Oh, you enjoy it all you want,” Pidge encouraged.  “I think you’d be cute together.”

   “That’s sweet that you think so, but…”

   “I know, I know.  You don’t want to cause trouble.”  Pidge rolled her eyes.  “Mama, you’re trouble with a turbo-booster on top.”

   Miela sighed.  “I’ve figured that out.  What I haven’t figured out is how to stay out of it.”

   “It’s not your fault boys are stupid,” Pidge mumbled.

   The woman made a slight noise of disagreement.  “Impulsive, I think.”

   “There’s your problem.”

   Miela sighed.  “I guess I can’t change that.”

   They walked onto the bridge together, and the rest of the paladins looked up.  Allura was standing on her platform at the center of the room, examining their map of Aepsis.  She too turned and gave Miela a smile.

   “How are you feeling?” she asked.

   Miela nodded.  “Better.  Much better, I think.”

   Allura looked down at the woman’s state of dress, and a fleeting expression of sadness crossed her face.  “I picked out another suit for you,” she said, “but you weren’t in your room.”

   Miela felt her face turn red, and she looked at the floor.  “I was having a… a conversation with Shiro,” she said, a little hesitantly.

   Allura looked a bit surprised.  “Oh.  Did you come to an understanding?”

   “Yes, I think so.”  Pidge elbowed her, and she smiled despite her embarrassment.  “I went ahead and filled him in on the specifics.”

   The princess smiled.  “We would be honored if you would share them with us.”

   “I plan to.”  She looked around the room at the teens.  On Earth, it might’ve worried her that they were all a good deal younger than her, but not here.  “I’m sorry for keeping this secret until the last moment, but I wanted you to know for certain that my mission was no more important than yours.  In fact, there is someone down there, in that monastery, who is especially dear to me.”  She looked up at Allura.  “And I believe a few of you already know who it is.”

   Allura looked at the floor.  “I do.”  Then she looked up at her.  “Do correct me if I’m wrong, but… I believe we are looking for a small child.”

   Lance looked like he was about to pass out.  “Wait, you’re a _mother_?” he screeched.

   “Yes.  Is that so strange?”

   “B-but… how?  I don’t even…!”  He put his head in both hands.  “Look at me, I can’t even talk!  You’re not supposed to be a _mom_!”

   It was said more out of amazement than judgement, but Pidge put her hands on her hips.  “Lance!”

   “What?  When she came aboard, we all thought she was this gorgeous, totally awesome teenage girl, and now she’s suddenly a _mom_!”

   Hunk raised one eyebrow at him.  “Being a mom doesn’t make a person less awesome, Lance.  And I _seriously_ doubt it was all that sudden.”  He looked up at Miela.  “It explains a lot, though.  I just wish you could have told us sooner.”

   “I’m sorry,” said Miela.  “I just had this sinking feeling that if I told you, you might disregard anything I had to say.”  She looked up at Allura.  “That’s the response many humans are taught to expect.  We don’t have swift justice, and justice does not take our emotions or attachments into account.”  She sighed.  “So I tried to be just.  I failed, but I did try.”  She smiled.  “So, thank you, Allura, Paladins, for being patient with me.  And Keith?”

   The red paladin looked up at her, and the confusion and hurt in his face drained away when he saw her soft smile.  “Y-yes?”

   “After we’re done here, I should like to speak privately with you.”

   “Okay…”

   Allura’s smile looked relieved.  “What can you tell us?”


	44. “Mama’s Song” - Carrie Underwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filomena tells Keith something very important, and Keith is bad at feelings again

   “You wanted to talk to me?” Keith asked.

   Miela turned to face him, and then excused herself from conversation with Princess Allura.  “Yes, I do.”

   There was worry in her face.  Instinctively, Keith’s expression bent to match hers.  “What’s up?”

   Miela wrung her hands nervously.  “Is there somewhere we can go?” she asked softly.

   Keith frowned.  “Another secret?” he asked.

   She shook her head.  “Not really.  Just something I need you to know.”

   He could have demanded that she come straight out with whatever it was.  He could have been jealous and bitter, but it wouldn’t be right.  He had made too many assumptions of her already, and it would be too easy to hurt her now.  She was being nice; she had always _been_ nice, he recalled.  Even when she was angry, she could portray kindness.  The thought made his chest ache.  Could he grow to be like that?  The red paladin bit his tongue and gestured toward his room.  “That way.”

   She nodded and let him lead her down the corridor, back in the direction of the crew’s quarters.

   Miela took a deep breath, counted four beats, and let it out.  Who was she kidding?  Even if what Shiro said was true, she could wind up being in another shouting match.  

   Her hands were getting cold.  She wrung them as Keith opened his door for her.  Already, she could feel her claustrophobia pressing in on her again, and he hadn’t even shut her in yet.

   She swallowed when she heard the door slide shut.  She waited for him to move, and was soon rewarded with the warmth of one of his hands on her shoulder.

   “What’s going on?” he asked softly.  He didn’t draw closer, and he soon picked his hand up off her arm to come around in front of her.  “Is something wrong?”

   She shook her head.  “No.  I’m just not sure how you’ll react to the information.”

   Keith sat down on his bunk and looked up at her without a word.

   Miela closed her eyes and counted to four again; four beats in, four beats out.  Was that four counts getting faster?  She opened her eyes and looked at the floor.  “My son…”  She choked, and swallowed.

   Keith’s eyes became worried again.  “Why are you so afraid of me?”

   That question put a crease of despair around her eyes.  “Because… I know what you are.”

   He studied her for a tick, and then looked at the floor.

   “And I’m afraid if you know what I am… you might hate me.”

   He hadn’t expected that.  He looked back up at her.  It took him a few ticks, but he started chuckling under his breath.  “I tried to kiss you yesterday,” he said.  “And, despite turning me down, you were kind, humble and… decent.”  He smirked.  “Why would I hate you?”

   She laughed humorlessly.  “I never said it was logical.”  She pursed her lips, and then decided to come out with it all at once.  “My son is half-Galra.”

   Nothing could have prepared him for that.  His mouth opened, but he was stunned into silence.

   “He… he wasn’t planned,” she went on.  “He wasn’t conceived in love.  But I needed you to know… He has my heart.  He is where all the love that exists in me resides.”  Her voice was shaking, her hands closed into tight fists, and Keith could feel her terror resonating in the room.  “Without him, I might have died in the Arena beside Shiro, or in the ring with my trainer, or as a _slave_ in a house not of my choosing.”  She swallowed.  “He is my reason for fighting.  For surviving.  For living.  And I want you to know…”  She took a deep breath.  Four counts _was_ getting faster.  “I want you to know…”  Her chest ached, and she clutched her fingers in the rags across her breastbone.  “I… I can’t breathe.”

   “Miela?”  Keith rose in a single fluid motion and took her by the arm.  “Are you okay?”  She didn’t answer, so Keith gently tugged her over and sat her down next to him on the cot.  “Look at me.”  She looked up, anxiety written in her eyes.  “Count.  I know you do it.”

   She obeyed, drawing in six counts this time.  Then six counts out.

   “Good.  Now eight.”

   “It’s too slow,” she said.

   “Four is too fast.  Try.”

   She nodded and pulled breath in until her chest ached.  She closed her eyes, and a tear rushed down her cheek, but she made it to eight, and exhaled again.  He was right.  That did make her feel better.

   “Filomena.”  She looked up at him, and was shocked by what she saw.  His eyes, the violet shade identical to her son’s, were damp and shining, his face a mixture of teenage embarrassment and heartache brought on by more than a decade of uncertainty.  “I… I’m glad you told me.  I thought…”  He tried to make wiping his eyes look nonchalant, and failed miserably.  “I thought I was the only one.”

   Miela shook her head.  “No.  You’re not alone.”  She smiled.  How funny, that Shiro had said those same words just a few vargas ago.  It was easier to breathe now.  She moved her arm out of his grip and took his hand in both hers.  “But… There was something important I wanted you to know, Keith.”

   He laughed under his breath.  “More important than that?”

   She smiled and nodded.  “Much more.”  She looked at his hand, cupped in hers, and ran both her thumbs over the seams on the back of the leather fingerless glove.  “I didn’t choose to become a mother,” she said softly.  “But… my life is incomplete without him, and I wouldn’t go back to how it was before.”  She looked up, into his face.  “I don’t know if you ever knew this, but…  Your mother loved you, Keith.”

   It was embarrassing how quickly tears sprang to his eyes at that comment.  Keith covered his mouth to stifle a gasp, and hung his head to hide his eyes behind his thick curtain of hair.

   That’s when he felt her hand gently cup the back of his neck.  She pulled down on him just a little, and a new, warm pressure met his forehead, right between two waves of his hair.  She had kissed him.

   The flood of emotions came out involuntarily, then.  Keith pressed both hands over his mouth and tried to force back the sob that threatened to break through.  The tears won, though, and they streamed down his face and over the tops of his hands.

   “F-Filomena,” he choked.  “Please… I don’t want you to see me like this…”

   She smirked.  He could have been rude or angry, but… he wasn’t.  “Okay,” she whispered.  She stroked his hair once and got up off his cot, but turned before she reached the door.  “She’d be proud of you.”

   “Please,” he begged.  “Please leave.”

   She stood there only a moment longer.  “Call on me if you need me.”  And then she was gone.  His door closed behind her, and Keith let himself weep for the first time in what felt like forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watching Keith being reduced to tears is sadder than I thought it would be. Pic here!  
> [A Mother's Love](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/A-Mother-s-Love-677212279) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	45. “Misled” -  Kool and the Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro loses track of what's real and what's fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been putting off posting this chapter for a reason. I might have to change the story rating over this. Warnings: lime/ sexual themes. Trigger warnings: biting, scratching, blood/ open wounds, night terrors, depictions of PTSD. If you don't like it, don't read it. You'll get an itty-bitty, clean, perfectly acceptable synopsis next chapter.

   Shiro stirred once as the ship descended into Aepsis’ atmosphere.  The accent lights in his room flickered and switched to a dim blue, and that pulled him back into sound sleep.

   He heard the soft pad of bare feet, and smirked.  “You’re still here?” he mumbled without opening his eyes.

   Her warm chuckle drifted through the darkness.  “That would imply I never left.”

   Shiro hummed.  “I was almost convinced it was a dream,” he sighed.

   “A good dream or a bad dream?” she asked.

   His smile widened, baring his teeth a bit.  “I’m not sure yet.  Mostly good, if I recall correctly.”

   She laughed again, and her voice was close in his ear.  Her lips brushed the short, gray hair in his sideburn, and then pressed a little more deeply into his jawline.  “Was there a bad part?”  She kissed his ear.

   Shiro shook his head gently, and let his eyes slowly drift open.  All he could see of her was her hair, draped across the nape of her neck, and the tattered tunic on her back.  “I don’t know.  I get the feeling I’m supposed to be afraid right now.”

   “Oh?  Just worry, or something else?”  Her kisses descended into his neck.

   Shiro moaned and let his hands trail up, under her tunic and over her back.  He could feel the small protrusions of her vertebrae rise and fall against his finger pads.  “Maybe I’m just worried,” he murmured.  “I think I can safely worry about you, now.”

   She lifted up a little, and her face came into view.  She was so beautiful; her eyes were almost brown in the ambient light, her hair mussed from lying on his pillow.  “What worries you?” she asked.

   Shiro let his fingers wander over her skin while he thought.  “I guess… I feel like I’m endangering you, letting you get close like this.”

   She bent close.  “I can take care of myself,” she purred, and landed a chaste kiss on his mouth.

   He raised his eyebrows and acknowledged her with a bob of the head.  “I knew that.”  He let her kiss him again, and when she broke away, he went on.  “I mean me.  Am I letting you affect my judgement?”

   “Are you?” she asked.  “Aside from pouncing me in the training room, you’ve not let it affect your decision-making as a paladin.”  

   Shiro blinked.  “Oh, so it wasn’t a dream.  I actually did that.”

   She propped her elbow on his pillow and rested her head in her hand.  “I’m an acting civilian.  Soldiers form bonds with civilians all the time, and call them army wives.”

   “Yeah, but their wives don’t go into battle with them,” Shiro said, though he couldn’t hide the smile her words engendered.

   She gave a careless sound.  “No.  And I’m not supposed to be going into battle with you.”  She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling turquoise for a split tick.  “Does that make you feel any better?”

   “‘Not supposed to’ worries me,” he mumbled.  “You’re a bit of a loose canon, dear.”

   She laughed.  “I’m glad you noticed.”  She traced her fingernails over the meat of his chest, and he took in a breath.

   “You’re not helping,” he sighed.

   “I don’t know about that.”

   He looked at her.  He wasn’t sure if it was just the light, but she seemed to glow a little.  “Are you…?”

   “Am I what?” she asked.  Her little fingers followed one of the scars on his chest, and she gave him a shy smile.  His skin was starting to tingle under her touch.

   Shiro picked her hand up off his chest and studied her fingers.  It wasn’t the light.  Her skin was emitting a faint shimmer, like the castle computers.  “You can manipulate quintessence?”  He looked down at his chest.  His scar had faded under her touch.  Shiro jerked his head to look her in the face again.  “Are you a druid?”

   She cocked an eyebrow at him.  “I don’t understand those words.”  

   Shiro’s frown let up.  Perhaps that was answer enough.

   Then she gave him an apologetic smile.  “I can stop if you want.”

   He studied her for a few more ticks.  “No,” he decided.  “I… I want to see.  I want to know.”

   She sat up next to him, balanced on one hip, and slowly smoothed her hands over both shoulders.  Oh, her touch; it was warm, and tingled like… like what?  Hot pepper?  No, that wasn’t right.  Mint?  No, not that either.  It came to him as she dragged her palms down over his ribs and onto his abdomen.  Citric acid- the kind used in candy; the minute, tingling explosions that made his muscles tighten in expectation.

   “Filomena,” he breathed.  He sighed and cupped his hands around her wrists.  If this was going in the direction he thought it might go, he could welcome it.  It didn’t matter if it _was_ all a dream.  Her fingernails drew a tickling line along his belt, barely grazing the scars they found and sending the teasing sensation shooting down into his hips.  “W-wait,” he stammered softly.  “I… I don’t know if I can take it.”

   She raised her hands off his skin in response.

   Shiro realized he was wrong, then.  He wanted that touch, more than he had ever wanted anything.  He tightened his grip on her wrists, and a halting curse slipped between his teeth and lower lip.  He pressed his feet into the mattress, and felt himself rise to meet her hands again.  He felt his breath hitch as her skin met his, and then the soft tingling resumed.

   He could feel his hands shaking as he tried to restrain himself.  Dear god, what was she doing to him, and how could it be _so good_?  He craned his head upward, but realized he couldn’t reach her like this.  He let his hips sink back down against the mattress, and then tried again.  He met her lips, his torso angled somewhere around forty-five degrees, his abdominal muscles trembling with… was that effort or desire?  He couldn’t tell anymore.

   He cupped the back of her head with his left hand and pushed up on the mattress with his right, easily turning himself over on top of her.  He felt her legs tangle in his, her right ankle hooked over his calf, and he moaned into her mouth.  Her hands weren’t stopping.  How many fingers did she have, again?  It felt like at least thirty.  He broke their kiss and looked down.  Two hands, ten fingers, still tracing his belt line.

   He moaned again.  “Filomena…”  Now his arms were trembling.  They still felt strong underneath him, but the shiver was moving down his body.  Should he be worried?  Maybe.  No, maybe not.  He pressed his body against her, and pleasure shot down to his toes and up into his shoulders.  He dug his right hand under her tunic and let it travel up her stomach and over her ribs.

   “Takashi…”

   He met her eyes.  They were almost blue now, with the light shining directly on them, and they looked at him with the sort of insatiable curiosity he recognized in most cats.  Was she really going to let him do these things to her?

   Her fingers found the slight depressions between his obliques and his hip bones, and she molded her hands to him, wedging her thumbs gently under the waistline of his pants.  That gave him his answer.

   Shiro let out a short sound as the feeling intensified.  It was the best kind of torture; he could _feel_ the skin in his scars again, tingling with anticipation.  He cupped his right hand around one soft hill of flesh under her tunic and squeezed gently.

   She inhaled at his touch, her chest expanding under his hand.

   The sound of her breath was all it took to tip the scales between want and need.  Shiro kissed her fiercely, his right hand searching her skin for something to hold on to, his left clutching the pillow next to her head, trying desperately to steady him as he sank deeper into her.

   Her fingers clenched, nails prickling new skin, thumbs extending further down under his remaining clothes, sending a stronger pulse of magic through him and making him gasp.

   Oh, god.  

   Shiro closed his eyes as the tremors made their way down his back.  He couldn’t take much more.  Just as he thought it, he felt her rise into him.  His hand drifted around between her shoulder blades and clasped her to him as he moved against her.  He couldn’t help it now; his body demanded motion, implored him to strike that flint between them so that those sparks might finally ignite and consume them.  Being _still_ was more torment than he could bear.  

   He managed to choke out her name.  “Filomena, I…”

   “Takashi…”  A pleading cry escaped her mouth, her lips brushing feather-light against the skin of his throat.  She clutched herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his back and digging her nails into his shoulders until he grunted.  “Takashi!”  He could feel her unraveling, grasping for something to ground her against him.  Then she found it.  She opened her mouth, letting out a mew of unadulterated lust, and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

   Shiro came undone then.  His body went rigid against her, and all the tension in him hit its peak.  Then he broke, voicing a few fervid gasps in her ear.  He rested there on top of her, trying to catch his breath and letting the passion slowly drain out of him.

   “Filomena?” he whispered.  He cradled her a moment longer before he realized she had gone completely still.  “Filomena, are you okay?”  He allowed her body to sink to the mattress, and gasped in shock as he realized something was wrong; something that should’ve been glaringly obvious.

   She was unconscious, blood streaming from a deep gash across her nose.  In the light, he couldn’t tell, but a few strands of her hair seemed to have gone several shades… whiter.  Shiro reached up to touch his face.  Was his scar gone?  He hadn’t even touched his nose yet before he realized that his right hand was flesh and bone, not metal and circuits.

   He stared at it for a moment before his horror really hit him.

   “No,” he whispered.  “No, not you…”

   The dream pushed forward, forcing him to look down at her right arm, and the slender, elegant prosthetic he had become so used to.  

   She had taken it from him; she had taken it all.

   “Takashi…”

   He looked up at her face.  She was awake, but her eyes were dull and lifeless.

   “It was for you,” she whispered.  “I did it for you.”

   He awoke with a scream.


	46. “Sex and Reruns” -  Matt Duke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filomena comforts Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: depictions of PTSD, anxiety attacks.

   Shiro tumbled out of bed and scrambled across the room, eyes wide, but still blurry and full of sleep.  He was shirtless, and in his sleep he had managed to kick off his boots.  Never take off the boots, one psychotic little voice scolded in his ear.  When you go, go with your boots _on_.

   Then there was that other voice that his panic almost completely drowned out.  “Shiro?  Shiro, are you in there?”

   Filomena.  Was she here?  Had that really happened?  He spun and looked at the cot he had just vacated.

   It was empty.  She wasn’t here after all. 

   “Shiro, are you okay?”  It was a different voice this time.  The sound of knocking followed.

   His breathing was beginning to slow.  Had he hurt her like he had thought?  He remembered burning her with his hand.  Was that… day before yesterday?  And what about last night?  Was any of that real?  Was there even such a person, or was it all just one terribly dramatic dream?

   Shiro sank against the wall.  He needed some way to test his reality.  He looked at his prosthetic and flexed his fingers.  Okay, hurting himself was _out_ , so… He reached across his chest and pinched himself on the tender skin under his arm.

   It hurt.  Shiro growled and gritted his teeth.  Then he looked around again.  Strange, he didn’t feel any more grounded.  He was still in this… cell.  Wait, this was a room, not a cell.  The difference was he could get out if he wanted.  If he wanted.

   Another voice yelled through the door.  This one was lower, more of an impatient growl.  “Shiro, open the door!”  The knocking turned to pounding.

   He spotted his shirt on the sleek bureau next to the bed.  It and his vest had been neatly folded and left in a short stack.

   He raised one eyebrow.  He didn’t remember doing that.  He got up and took a step closer, and then slowly picked up his shirt.  He was definitely in the habit of folding his clothes, but not like that.  This reminded him of the strict folding jobs he had seen in department stores back on Earth.

   Perhaps that’s what started to ground him.  Someone else had folded the clothes he had taken off.  He raised the shirt to his face.  It mostly smelled like him; metallic with a hint of… was that overripe peaches?  It came to him then.  It smelled like gun oil.  She smelled like that; she was a gunsmith, after all.

   “Shirogane Takashi,” said a final voice.  Shiro’s ears perked, and he looked up at the door.  Nobody said his name like that.  Nobody called him by his full name, and never in standard Japanese form.  “ _Watashi desu_.  _Doa wo akeru._ ”  It’s me.  Open the door.  Her voice was warm, much softer than the others.

   Then the impetuous growl he had heard before.  “You speak Japanese?” Keith asked.

   “I told you, I pick up words.”

   She was still looking at him when Shiro opened the door.

   Pidge let out a startled cry, and then turned red and spun around to hide her face in her hands.  “S-Shiro, your clothes!”

   Shiro’s gaze drifted briefly over to Pidge, and then down at Keith and Hunk, neither of whom seemed to care that he was out of uniform and both of whom had worried looks on their faces.  Then his eyes came to rest on the young woman at the front of the group.  She stared up at him with a look that said she knew exactly what was going on in his head.

   And then Shiro really woke up.  He leaned heavily into the door frame, and cupped his head in his injured left hand.

   Miela’s eyes sharpened, and she jerked her head at Hunk.  “Go get him some herbal tea.”

   “What happened?” Keith asked.

   Miela narrowed her eyes at him, as if he should already know this.  “He has night terrors.  Go find Princess Allura and tell her to bring me a strong-scented perfume.  Pidge, you’re with me.”

   “What?  Why me?” the girl asked.

   “Would you rather go drag Lance out of bed?”  The girl made a face of disgust, and Miela returned her attention to Shiro.  “Let’s go back inside, Shiro.”  She put her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back into his room.

   Shiro’s knees were still shaking.  He braced himself on the wall opposite his bed.  He still wasn’t quite sure what was real.  “Tell me what happened last night.”

   Miela cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Pidge.  “I…  I told you the truth.  About my son.”

   Shiro nodded.  “It was real, then.  I… I hurt you.”

   The young woman’s eyebrows came together sadly.  “Yes.  A couple quintants ago.  You’ve already apologized.”

   His eyes were starting to water.  “And… and last night?”

   “Are you asking me if you hurt me last night?”  Her tone was low and serious.  It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

   “Yes.”  His breathing was starting to sound harsh.  He rubbed his eyes.

   “No.  No, you did not.”

   Shiro gasped and wiped at his eyes again, and Miela turned to Pidge.  “Could you give us the room, please?  Maybe…”  Her eyes lit up as she was hit with an idea.  “Go get the REM oil.”

   The girl nodded and obeyed.

   “I’m sorry,” Shiro said softly, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice.  It didn’t work.  It came through so clearly.  “I’m so sorry.”

   “Oh, Takashi,” she said patiently.  “Don’t be sorry for that.”  She watched him for a moment, and then looked at the floor.  “May I touch you?” she asked.  “Whenever I had a nightmare, I never liked it when people touched me, so I thought I should ask.”

   Shiro thought about it, and then nodded.  “I… I think I prefer it.”

   “Okay.”  She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself against him and securing her grip by grabbing her wrists.  “Is this better?”  He smelled of metal and salt, with a telltale hint of chlorine that spoke to the nature of last night’s dream; skin, sweat, and sex. 

   Shiro pressed his fingers into her shoulder blades and bent his face into her hair.  Gun oil.  It was her scent on his clothes.  He breathed her in, and his heart rate began to slow.  “What happened last night?” he finally murmured.

   She turned her head to look up at him, propping her chin on his chest.  “After taking off your shirt?  I fixed your headache, kissed you goodnight, and left, as we discussed.”

   “You were going to talk to Allura.”

   “Yes.”

   Shiro rubbed his hands across her back.  “Did you come back after that?” he asked.

   “No.”

   Shiro nodded into the top of her head.  So everything that followed was part of the nightmare.  “I… I had this dream…”

   “Takashi.”  She relinquished her grip and moved her hands to his sides so that she could comfortably look up at him.  “You don’t have to…”

   “We made love,” he interrupted.

   The straightforwardness of the comment stopped her in her tracks.  Filomena knew that already, judging by his scent.  But her face still turned pink, and she lowered her gaze into his chest.

   “Not… sex per se, but…”

   “I think I know what you mean,” she said softly.  Her face was redder, but her tone was still even and mature.  She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.  “I… I’m flattered.  But… Was it…?”

   “It was wonderful,” Shiro said.  “But I looked up after… _after_ , and you were…”  He swallowed.  “You were bleeding… covered in wounds…”  He dug the fingers of his right hand into her back.  “And you… you had my arm.”

   “Your right arm?”

   “Yeah.”

   She hummed thoughtfully, and then reached up to touch his face with her right hand, an indicator to show she was all right.  “That broken part of you thinks you’ll hurt me by being intimate with me, even if the relationship itself might be fulfilling.”

   Shiro swallowed.  “Yes.”

   She smirked.  “That’s appropriate.”  She was validating his feelings?  What kind of woman was she?  “Should I back off?”

   Shiro smirked.  “I thought _I_ had made the first move.  The first several, really.”

   “So?” she asked.  “This is important, Takashi, and not just to me.  If you honestly think a romantic relationship between us is dangerous, we can slow down.”

   Shiro paused and looked at her.  “Really?”

   “Of course.”  She allowed him a loving smile.  “We got off to a running start, after all.”

   He matched her smirk.  “We did, didn’t we?”  She made him smile just like that.  Without even thinking about it.  He let the smile fade.  “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly.  “I should consider what you want, too.”

   “That’s sweet of you,” she said, “but I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t willing.”

   For some reason, that made him more disheartened.  He looked at the floor.

   Miela sighed and gave him a wry look.  “I’m not going to suddenly find you less attractive, Takashi.  Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.  I wouldn’t have let you kiss me otherwise.”  She chuckled and dragged her fingers through his hair.  “I think I could embarrass myself telling you all the things I was tempted to do last night.”

   Shiro cracked a smile again.  “That… makes me feel a little better.”

   “All I’m asking is that we wait a little while before we take it further,” she said soothingly.  “I don’t know about you, but I…”  That bashful little smile crossed her face again.  “I’m happy like this.  For the first time… ever, I think.”  She glanced away as the blush rose in her cheeks.  “I like how we are, and I don’t want to ruin it by rushing through it.”

   His smile widened.  “May I kiss you?”

   She grinned and looked up at him from under her eyebrows.  Then she raised her head and pushed herself up on her toes.  “I think you should.”


	47. “Friends” - Band of Skulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Filomena's relationship is met with mixed reviews by the rest of the crew

   Shiro’s door was still open when Pidge got back. She could hear soft voices coming from inside, though, so she waited a moment before doing anything.  
   “Is that too tight?” she heard Miela murmur.  
   Pidge felt her face grow warm. What were they doing in there?  
   Then she heard Shiro’s reply. “No, I don’t think so. The splint is keeping me from feeling much.”  
   The green paladin sighed. She was tending to his injury. She swallowed her embarrassment and knocked politely on the door frame. “Are you guys decent?” she called into the room.  
   Miela laughed tiredly. “I wouldn’t have left the door open otherwise,” she said.  
   Shiro chuckled under his breath. “Come in, Pidge.”  
   She rounded the door frame and peered into the room. Shiro was fully dressed, and he and Miela were sitting on his cot, the woman gently rewrapping the bandages on his left hand.  
   The black paladin gave Pidge a reassuring smirk. “Welcome back.”  
   “You feeling better?” she asked.  
   He let out a sheepish laugh. “Yeah. Just needed some time to come to my senses.”  
   The girl gave him a sly grin. “A little lovin’ never hurt, did it, Shiro?”  
   The man’s face flushed, the warm pink tinting the scar on his nose and the apples of both cheeks. He cleared his throat, and Miela stifled a laugh behind her hand.  
   “Wow!” Pidge murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush like that!”  
   He gave her a warning look, which she mostly ignored. “Don’t get too used to it.” Then he returned her sly smirk. “If you try too hard to embarrass me, you know I’ll embarrass you right back. I’d hate to make it a competition.”  
   A brief look of terror crossed the girl’s face, until she realized he was joking. She laughed nervously. “Good to know your sense of humor’s back,” she said. “I… I hope you know I was just messing around.”  
   “Oh, I do.” His face became a little more serious for a moment. “However, I want to let you know that I…” He looked at the floor between his boots. “I really am feeling better. You guys… you make it easier.”  
   Pidge granted him a warm smile. “You’re our family, Shiro. I imagine it’s got to be hard to come to us with hard stuff like this, but…” She slid her tiny hand into his. “You’ve got us if you need us.”  
   He smirked. “Thanks, Pidge.” He closed his fingers around her hand, and the intricate joints of his knuckles made a faint, almost hydraulic hiss.  
   The girl’s smile faded a bit, and she looked down at his hand. “So that’s why you wanted the REM oil,” she murmured.  
   Miela made an affirmative hum and clipped the bandage into place over the back of Shiro’s left hand. “I have excellent hearing.”  
   Pidge turned Shiro’s hand over between hers. “I don’t think I ever asked you about your arm,” she said. “I mean, little details like what you can feel and your range of motion.”  
   Shiro harrumphed. “I don’t mind. Not that kind of stuff.” He let the girl study his prosthetic closely. “My thumb has a slightly more limited range, but the other fingers work fine. It can’t feel pain (or at least, it hasn’t yet), but it can distinguish heat, cold, and pressure, which is weird. I’m guessing it has some kind of internal thermometer.”  
   “Like an automobile engine,” Miela supplied. “That seems a little rudimentary, though.”  
   Pidge shrugged. “If it works, don’t mess with it.” She angled the thin nozzle of the oil can into one of Shiro’s knuckles. The smell of gun oil filled the room. “Does it come off?”  
   “I think so.” Shiro’s mouth twitched to one side. “There’s a pressure-sensitive pad above the elbow joint. I pushed it by accident once, and my whole arm started tingling and went numb, like I was having a migraine.”  
   Miela inhaled, and he looked at her. “You have them too?”  
   He smirked. “Had. Past tense.” He looked back at Pidge. “Anyway, I never had the desire to try it again.”  
   “Can’t say I blame you,” said the girl. She spritzed his middle knuckle with the oil and worked the joint gently to coat it. “These things are minuscule,” she grumbled. “I can’t even imagine the detail that went into the design.”  
   Shiro cocked one eyebrow at her. “That’s… something I’d actually rather not think about.”  
   “Oh. Sorry. I’ll stop now.”  
   Shiro smirked. “You and your curiosity.”  
   “I’m back!” Hunk called into the room. He poked his head inside with a wary smile. “I brought food too, just in case.”  
   “That’s great,” said Shiro. “Thank you.”  
   Hunk pushed a hover-plate toward him, laden with fruit and a thick, pudding-like substance that wafted a sweet grain smell. “Where are Keith and Allura?”  
   “Right behind you,” said Allura’s voice.  
   He turned and looked at the two of them, standing in Shiro’s doorway. Allura was in her space suit, and was carrying a small phial of green liquid.  
   “Are you all right?” she asked.  
   “Better than I was.” Shiro gave her a small smile. “Did I miss anything?”  
   The princess sighed with relief. “No. We landed about a varga ago.” She held up the phial. “What did you need perfume for?”  
   Miela raised her hand. “That was me, actually.” She looked up at Shiro. “I don’t know about you, but scent is typically what grounds me to reality.”  
   Shiro laughed under his breath. “That’s what did it for me.” He pointed to the can of gun oil in Pidge’s hand.  
   Miela cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really? Why’s th-?”  
   Shiro tugged gently on his vest in a slightly smug indication.  
   It took Miela a moment, but when she finally caught on, her face went pink, and she covered her nose and mouth with both hands.  
   Pidge narrowed her eyes at them, and then shook her head. “You two are such dorks.”  
   Allura gave Miela a slightly reproachful pout, and then held up the phial of perfume. “What are you planning to do with this?”  
   The woman’s blush faded. “Is that the entire bottle?”  
   “No, it’s just a sample.”  
   “Excellent.” Miela rose and took the tiny glass container from her. “I don’t want to use up all your good perfume.”  
   Allura folded her arms and lowered one eyebrow at her. “I wouldn’t _dare_ call that ‘good perfume’. But Keith said you needed something with a powerful smell, and I daresay it’s true of that stuff.” She leaned away. “Just don’t open it in here.”  
   “Then you should probably tell me what it smells like,” Miela said. There was a hint of laughter under her voice.  
   Allura hummed. “I always thought it smelled like disinfectant. It’s tart and herbal… too clean for me to ever wear. And besides, it gives me headaches.”  
   Shiro chuckled. “Filomena can _definitely_ help with the headache issue.” He smiled at Miela. “Actually, considering the dreams I had last night, I feel pretty well-rested.”  
   She smiled back. “I’m glad.” She handed him the perfume. “Put that in your pocket. If something happens and you need an anchor, all you’ll have to do is break it.”  
   Shiro hummed thoughtfully and obeyed, slipping the phial into his left vest pocket. Something occurred to him then, and he gave her a puzzled look and reached to scratch the back of his head.  
   Pidge pulled down on his right arm. “You’re gonna get REM oil everywhere if you don’t quit,” she griped.  
   He gave the girl an apologetic smile and completed the action with his other hand. “Did I really ask you to marry me, or was I dreaming?”  
   The shriek that followed included Keith, Allura, and Pidge’s voices. “WHAT?” They all looked at Miela for an answer.  
   Miela chuckled warmly, seemingly impervious to further embarrassment. “You did.”  
   The rest of the paladins turned to stare at their leader again.  
   Keith: “Shiro, why the quiznak-?”  
   Allura: “What were you _thinking_? This is _totally_ -!”  
   Pidge: “ _Three days_ , Shiro! It’s been _three days_! You can’t just-!”  
   Hunk: “Does that mean she can stay?”  
   And then Lance appeared in the door, fully dressed but less than awake. “What is everyone yelling about?”  
   Miela reached around Shiro and covered his ears with both hands, and then let out a powerful shout. “ _Hey_!” Her voice drowned all of them out, the reverb in the room making their ears ring and setting everyone’s teeth on edge. When they were all quiet and rubbing their ears, Miela released the sides of Shiro’s head and settled herself on his cot again.  
   Shiro glanced at her. “Thanks for that.” He looked dryly up at his companions. “Normally I wouldn’t explain myself to my _cadets_ ,” he grumbled, “but I suppose Princess Allura has a right to know.” He raised his eyes to the princess, whose arms were folded impatiently across her chest. “I’ll be very clear here: we did nothing illicit.” He looked to Filomena for confirmation, but she just lowered her eyebrows at him.  
   “That’s not very clear at all,” she mumbled.  
   Shiro shrugged. “Do you have a better word?”  
   She thought for a moment. “Unethical?”  
   The black paladin hummed and nodded. “It’s as good a word as any. And it stays true as long as you _remain aboard the ship while we’re on the mission,_ ” he enunciated, just to make sure Filomena understood very clearly.  
   “Forgive me if that doesn’t make me feel better,” Allura snapped.  
   Shiro looked up at her. “With all due respect, Allura, our individual relations with civilians are none of your concern until they affect our judgement as your paladins.”  
   “Aren’t they?” she growled.  
   Shiro frowned at her. “No.” He looked at Miela. “My ‘proposal,’ if you could even call it that, was two words said completely without forethought, and were not meant to offend _anyone_.”  
   Filomena smiled at him. “I was flattered. I chalked it up to a rare moment of weakness.”  
   “Proposal?” Lance mumbled sleepily. He rubbed his eyes.  
   Keith folded his arms and cast the blue paladin a scowl. “Yes. The ‘marry me’ kind.”  
   Lance looked at him, blinked, and then his expression went slack again. “Okay, I get it. I’m still dreaming.”  
   Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “What makes you say that?”  
   Lance turned to retreat to his room. “There’s not a universe in existence in which Shiro would propose to someone after three days. And I don’t care what Slav says.” He yawned and looked over his shoulder at Keith. “I’m going back to bed. Wake me when it’s time to leave.”  
   Pidge leaned over so that she could see the woman on Shiro’s left side. “If the massage was that good, I’m going to insist you give me one.”  
   Allura raised her eyebrow. “A massage? That’s what this is about?” She sighed. “Honestly, Shiro, I wish you had given me some context.”  
   He chuckled. “You would’ve yelled at me anyway.” Then he looked at Pidge. “Now, if you’ll give my hand back, I’d like to eat something before we get started.”  
   “You’ve got another hand, Shiro,” the girl grouched.  
   “I’m still right-handed, Pidge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunk doesn't care; he just wants his sous-chef to stick around. XD


	48. “The Fighter” - Keith Urban (feat. Carrie Underwood)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finishing touches are added to the plan, and Miela shares a few of her personal beliefs

   They all gathered on the bridge for a final debriefing soon after that. 

   Shiro looked up as he walked onto the main deck, and was surprised to see the woman standing there, wearing a suit that was almost identical to Allura’s.  Somehow, it had taken Miela a shorter time to get changed than Shiro, who was usually the fastest.

   Miela met his gaze and offered him an embarrassed smirk.  “I refused a formal gown, and this is what we came up with,” she explained.

   The black paladin shook his head and smirked.  “It looks good on you,” he said, “but you don’t really look comfortable in it.”

   “It’s not really my style,” she admitted.  “But then, neither was the black one.”  She sighed and attempted to return her focus to the map.  “Princess Allura’s tastes tend to be a bit more sophisticated than mine.”

   “Really?” he asked, sidling up beside her.  “And here I thought her suits were pretty utilitarian.”

   She rewarded him with a slightly dry smile.  “I’m more used to jeans and flannel.”  She shrugged.  “Don’t get me wrong; I clean up quite well, and I can play high-class with the best of them, but that’s all it is.  An act.”

   Shiro smirked.  “You do make a commanding presence in that uniform, though.”

   She chuckled.  “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”  She looked up at him, and the smile faded a little.  “I don’t belong in this uniform, Takashi.  It gives me the confidence to play a part, but… What I wouldn’t give to be at home in my own skin.”

   Shiro harrumphed in response.  “That wasn’t what I saw.  Even in those slavers’ rags, you’re… _powerful._ ”  He put his hand on her shoulder.

   Filomena flicked her green eyes up at him and smiled shyly.  “I don’t think anyone’s ever described me that way before.”

   “You’d be wrong,” said Allura’s voice.  Miela and Shiro turned to look at her as the princess mounted the center platform, with the blue paladin following closely behind her.  “Lance actually used that particular term, as well.”

   Shiro smiled.  “See?” he asked.  “Apparently someone agrees with me.”

   Allura lowered her eyebrows at him.  “A pity it had to be Lance.”

   Lance spoke up.  “Don’t hate me because I was right about something.”

   “For _once_ ,” Allura mumbled at him as he took his seat.

   Hunk, Pidge, and Keith came in next, with Pidge pulling a small alien figure along with her and chattering at high speeds about something mechanical that Miela could barely follow.

   Shiro let out a loud sigh.  “And the circus is here.”

   Miela folded her arms.  “They’re _your_ monkeys, Takashi.  Hop to it, ringmaster.”

   “ _Oh_ , no,” Shiro insisted.  “I’ll claim the humans, but _that_ one,” he pointed to the caterpillar-like creature, “is _not_ one of mine.”

   Allura shot him a reproachful glare.  “You’d do well to be _nice_ to Slav once in a while.”

   Shiro crossed his arms.  “I’ve _tried_ being nice.”

   Filomena cut in with both hands raised.  “I’m sorry, _that’s_ Slav?”

   “Oh!  Please forgive me!” the creature said in an accent that sounded deeply Middle-Eastern to Miela’s well-trained ears.  He scurried over to the woman and extended a four-digit paw to her.  “I did not realize we had not met in this reality.”

   Shiro rolled his eyes.  “And here we go.”

   “What?” Miela asked.  Shiro just shook his head, and the young woman took Slav’s proffered hand and shook it. 

   “My, what hand strength!” the alien mused.  “Which reality are you?  A musician, perhaps?”

   She smiled.  “Part-time.  I’m a gunsmith.”

   “Ah, right,” Slav agreed.  “Specialization is for insects.”

   “Hey!” Shiro objected.

   “Robert Heinlein,” said Miela.

   Shiro looked at her.  “What’s that?”

   She glanced up at him.  “It’s part of a quote by one of my favorite authors.”  Her smile widened.  “And I was certain it wasn’t aimed at you.”

   “‘A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects,’” Slav quoted.

   “That’s fantastic!” Miela exclaimed, a wide smile on her face.

   Allura smirked.  “He has his moments.”

   Shiro cut his eyes at her.  “This counts as _one_ moment.”

   The smaller alien ignored him and indicated himself with three of his hands.  “I am Slav.  By what monikers do you go?”

   Miela smiled.  “My being is _Anira_.  In this reality, I have been named Filomena, and nicknamed ‘Honey’.” 

   “Anira!  I know that being!  She is quite the well-traveled one.”  Slav scratched the knobby protrusion on the left side of his head with one paw.  “Is this the reality where you’re the red planet native, raised in a convent?”

   Miela laughed.  “You’re a few billion years too late for that one.  That was my first life.”

   “Ah,” Slav said, and lowered his head in embarrassment.  “I was saddened to hear of your divorce.  He was a good _drkhsh_ , and a good father.”

   “It was for the best,” Miela replied soothingly.  “We’ve crossed paths a few times since then, and there are no hard feelings between us.”

   Pidge was scratching her head.  “I’m lost now, and that’s pretty hard to do.  Are you talking about past lives?”

   Miela looked up, a little sheepishly.  “Ah.  Sorry, Pidge.  This is kind of where science meets religion.  It’s pretty clear this gentleman lives in and has a great understanding of multiple realities.  What is a little less clear is that those realities are frequently temporally unrelated.”

   “That much we got already,” Shiro grumbled.  “He doesn’t know which reality he’s living in, most of the time.”

   “Exactly,” said Miela.  “Humans live in a linear fashion; from birth to death to rebirth, if you go for that sort of thing.  Even if we have an understanding of our past lives, they stay in the past.  All our experiences as those people we were before might help us, but it doesn’t change who we are now.”  She held up her hands.  “The benefit of living in multiple realities at once is that you have access to vast quantities of information.  However, it adversely affects one’s ability to measure time, and the knowledge of ongoing parallel personal experiences can cause one to be… severely neurotic.”  She said those last two words sheepishly, and a little more quietly.

   Shiro raised an eyebrow at her.  “So… you’ve never actually been divorced?” he asked, point blank.

   She looked up at him.  “No.”

   He narrowed his eyes at her.  “And you remember all your ‘past lives’?” he asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

   “No.  I remember several, but not all of them.”  She gave him a grin.  “I happen to be a very old soul.”  She turned to look at Pidge.  “But my point is I’m using memory.  Slav is actually living all his lives _now_.”

   Shiro sighed.  “If you’re right, I might have to change my tactics.”

   She smiled warmly at him.  “It would save you a great many headaches.”

   “All right, children!”  Allura called their attention with a clap of her hands.  “If there is anything that needs to be said, let’s have it out.”

   Filomena spoke up.  “There is something I should mention before you go down there,” she said.  “Whatever you do, and no matter your circumstances, _do not open your visor_ ,” she warned.  

   “But there’s oxygen down there,” Keith said.  “We wouldn’t need our visors, would we?”

   “You shouldn’t, but the slavers have been known to use tear gas to keep their victims submissive.”  She looked from face to face.  “It’s invisible, and has no scent or flavor.”

   “What happens if we inhale it?” Pidge asked.

   “It looks like a severe allergic reaction,” said Miela.  “You’ll have difficulty breathing, have severe respiratory pain, and your eyes will swell shut.  However, where tear gas on earth will wear off after about forty doboshes, this stuff can last for up to three Spicolian movements.  That’s three weeks, in Earth time.”

   Allura studied the woman for a moment.  “That’s how you can navigate the caverns completely blind.”

   Miela nodded.  “Yes.  It’s also why I have a decent tolerance for the stuff.  I’ve been gassed several times.”  She looked at Shiro.  “I imagine if you had tolerance training on earth, you might be able to withstand an attack unimpeded for…”  She thought for a moment.  “…maybe fifty ticks.  But absolutely no more than that.”  She looked around the room.  “It would be best if you just kept your visors closed.”

   Hunk folded his arms.  “That’s an easy enough thing to remember.”

   Allura looked at Miela.  “Anything else?”

   The woman folded her arms.  “Don’t get separated,” she said.  “I don’t think I can stress that enough.  You won’t get lost with the BLIP tech’s mapping feature, but things can still happen.”  She held up two fingers.  “Stay together for as long as you can.”

   “That might not be possible,” Shiro said gently.  “We might not always have that choice.”

   Miela looked up at him and heaved a deep sigh.  “Last couple things, then.  The medic’s name is Matik.  She’s what the Americans used to call a _Grey_.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes.  “I know that term.”  He looked at his team.  “They’re thin, hairless, and have very large eyes.  Think Roswell alien.”

   “Matik lost her left hand in a rockslide three years ago,” Miela went on.  “She never received a prosthetic, so she has an aide attending her.  He’s good with his hands, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”  She looked around the room.  “I should be on the com with Princess Allura, should any of you require advice.”

   The four younger paladins each turned to their personal elevators, but Shiro stopped when Filomena placed her hand on his arm.  He turned and looked at her.

   She looked up into his face for a moment, and then a sort of sad resignation fell over her.  “Come back safe.”

   Shiro smiled and brushed the wayward strand of hair behind her ear.  “I’ll be back before you know it.”  Then he turned and stepped onto the lift, and watched her eyes until he could no longer see her.


	49. “I Will Survive” - Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro tries to lead the paladins effectively while enduring friendly teasing, which is a lot harder than it sounds

   Allura had activated the castle’s particle barrier, so the effects of the massive dust storm were largely diminished.  Not that it mattered, really.  The team was split between the two largest of the mechas, namely the yellow and black lions.  

   Pidge, who had opted to ride in the lion with Shiro and Keith, was chuckling smugly to herself as they left the hangar and descended the few hundred feet to the surface.  

   Shiro sighed.  “I can hear you, Pidge.”

   The green paladin folded her arms.  “Don’t mind me.  I’m just pleasantly surprised that she got to you.”

   Keith looked down over the back of the black paladin’s seat.  “I’ve got to agree, Shiro.  We all figured you’d be the last one to give in to that sort of… whatever that is.”

   Pidge looked at him.  “Influence, maybe?  The chick’s got some serious charm.  And nah.  That’s actually probably Hunk, and only because he’s got Shay on the brain.”

   Hunk’s voice sounded over the com.  “Leave me out of it, guys.”

   The red paladin looked at her.  “You’re putting _yourself_ before Hunk?”

   “I’d put every single one of us before Hunk.”

   Shiro rolled his eyes.  “That makes me feel _loads_ better, guys.  Thanks for that.”

   “You should,” Pidge said, leaning over his chair.  “You’re the one who’s been making kissy faces with her.”

   Keith made a noise in his throat and backed off.  “Shiro!”

   The girl looked up at him.  “Ye gods, Keith, don’t act like you didn’t know!”

   “Pidge, what did your father teach you about distracting the driver?” Shiro griped.  He reached up and pushed her helmet out of his field of vision.

   To his chagrin, Lance’s face appeared beside Hunk’s on the com screen.  “I gotta say, I’m pretty jealous,” the blue paladin said.  His tone of voice made Shiro cringe.  “How’d you get her wrapped around your finger?”

   “Lance, this is hardly the time…”

   “Oh, come on, Shiro,” Pidge whined.  “You could at least teach him a _modicum_ of adult charm.  He’s so _painfully_ awkward!”

   “Hey!” Lance objected.

   Shiro looked up at her.  “Since when do _I_ have charm?”

   Lance lowered one eyebrow at him.  “Apparently since you and Miela became an item.”

   “Item?” Shiro asked.  “Do people even use that term anymore?”

   Pidge narrowed her eyes at him.  “I caught her coming out of your room, Shiro,” she said dryly.  “You’re an item.”

   “Moving a little fast there, aren’t we cowboy?” Lance said lyrically.

   The black paladin groaned.  “If my eyes get stuck mid-roll, Lance, I’m going to blame you.”  Then he nodded his head toward the screen.  “Also, if I’m honest, my courting skills could use some updating.  I’m pretty sure my choice of advances nearly got me killed.”

   Pidge narrowed her eyes.  “You pounced her, didn’t you?”

   Keith’s face was bright red.  “Can we stop now?  Please?”

   The girl grinned at him.  “Not if your face can get any redder.”

   Shiro let out a growl.  “All right, stow it!  We will be landing in ten ticks.  We can discuss my unorthodox methods later, and I’ll make it my personal mission to make you more uncomfortable than I am right now.”

   “Pass,” said Pidge.

   “I’m out,” said Lance.

   “I never wanted to have this conversation in the first place,” Keith griped.

   “I’m still denying being a part of this conversation,” Hunk grumbled.

   “I’m glad we all agree,” Shiro said, with some finality.  He maneuvered the black lion into the opening that Hunk and Keith had cut into the crystal chimney.  It was a tight fit for both of the lions inside the cavern, but the two of them finally found a way to fit without scraping against each other.  “Hunk, is there any way to close up the mouth of the chimney?  We’ll need oxygen if we’re going to be able to transport the prisoners out of here.”

   Allura’s face appeared on his com screen.  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.  “The shipment is on its way in.  They’ll have to rendezvous with the slavers, and there will have to be air present for them to make the exchange.”

   “We’ve got to get moving, then,” said Shiro.  “How far out are they?”

   Pidge pulled up her info on the BLIP units she’d put into orbit.  “They’re still pretty far out.  If we get moving, we’ll be able to beat them to the monastery.”  She led her companions out of the black lion and into the caves, using the three-dimensional map that Miela had helped her render.  “Miela said the red lion collapsed one of the tunnels, but she didn’t know the extent of the damage,” said Pidge.  “Lucky for us, it doesn’t lead anywhere of very much concern.”

   “What do you mean by that?” Shiro asked.

   Pidge looked over her shoulder at him.  “She was using it for storage and access to groundwater.  Apparently there’s an aquifer down there.”

   Shiro glanced down the tunnel.  “Keep it in mind.  We might have to dig it out later.”

   Keith perked up.  “You guys think the only reason she knew I was down there was because I cut off her water supply?”

   The green paladin looked at him.  “I didn’t even think about that.  It’s possible, though.” 

   Lance clapped a hand down on Keith’s shoulder.  “Somebody’s looking out for you, Keith.  Don’t read too much into it.”

   “It’s not like I’m any less grateful,” the red paladin mumbled.  He followed the rest of his team into the caverns.

   It took them about thirty doboshes to navigate the tunnels to the crevasse beneath the monastery, with Miela and Allura whispering instructions in their ears.

   “Now what?” Keith asked into the com.  “If we jump out of here all at once, we’ll be spotted.  We’ll lose the element of surprise, and we don’t even know their numbers yet.”

   “I got that covered,” said Pidge.  “I’ll go invisible and plant this last drone on the roof of the monastery.  That should give us full coverage.  And Miela can still help us by pointing out individuals she recognizes.”

   “How long can you stay invisible?” Shiro asked.

   She looked at him.  “Long enough to get to the roof, at least.  It shouldn’t take me more than a couple doboshes, with my jet pack.”

   Shiro gave her a nod.  “Okay.  Here we go.”

   Pidge turned on her cloaking device and boosted herself out of the rift.  “It’s pretty quiet, Shiro,” she murmured.

   “You can talk when you get out of earshot, Pidge,” Shiro said dryly.

   “I wouldn’t be talking if I was in danger of being heard.”  She hastily bounded up onto the roof of the first building she came to.

   “We’re sitting ducks, here, Pidge.  You need to hurry.” 

   “Don’t move.  I’m on my way up to the tower.  I’ll take care of any sentries while I’m up there, and let you guys know when it’s safe to come out.”  Pidge quickly made her way across the compound, leaping from roof to roof until she came to the farthest point in the complex, an ancient bell tower built into the wall of the cavern, and flanked by flying buttresses.  “This place kind of reminds me of the Alamo,” she said into the com.  “Big open space right in the middle, and all the buildings arranged around it.”  She looked up at the tower, and aimed her grappling hook up at its rafters.  “Wish me luck,” she murmured.  

   She fired the little device, and the percussive whooshing sound made her cringe.  Had anyone heard that?  She waited a few tense ticks, until she was certain nobody was going to respond, and then began her ascent up the tower, using her jet packs to keep the majority of her weight off the cable and quicken her pace.

   She was almost at the top of the tower when she began hearing voices from above, and swung herself into the shadow of one of the flying buttresses.

   “I don’t know why Raxxan assigned _me_ up here,” said one disgruntled voice.  “He knows I can’t stand heights.”

   There was a harrumph and a more nasal response.  “We take our turns where we have to.  It’s better than prison watch.”  The voice was smooth, lyrical.  Pidge could probably have described it as serpentine; it gave her chills just to listen.

   The girl chanced a peek up at the bell chamber.  One of the aliens was standing with his back to her.  He was big, but all she could see of him was his sleek fur, like a golden retriever.  That was fine.  If he wasn’t looking her way, she could keep climbing.

   “I’d take prison watch over this,” the furry one said, propping a fist on its hip.

   “How did you _ever_ get to Aepsis?” the smooth voice asked.  “You have to _travel_ to get here, you know.”

   “Space is different, I guess,” said the first.

   “I know someone who’d agree with you,” said Pidge.  The furry one startled and spun around, swinging an energy rifle in her direction, but the girl jabbed him in the chest with her bayard, sending a jolt of electricity through him.  The large, furry alien seized, then shivered once and slumped to the stone floor.

   The second alien, the green, four-armed Unilu she had seen days before, yelped and pointed his weapon at her, but she didn’t give him time to aim.  She fired her bayard into the wall behind him and whipped the grappling cord around him, making him drop his firearm.  She sent a pulse of energy down the cord, and the smaller alien squealed once and collapsed.

   “Pidge?” Shiro’s voice sounded in her ear.  “How’s it coming?”

   “Just got done,” she replied.  “There were two sentries, but they won’t be giving us problems now.”  She straddled the big alien’s broad back and cuffed his hands behind him.

   “Great,” Shiro said.  “What can you tell us about our battlefield?”

   “Give me five ticks while I cuff this other guy.”  Five ticks later, as promised, her voice came back on the line.  “Okay.  I’m here.”  She looked out the arched window at the compound below.  “Allura, you there?”

   “We’re here, Pidge.”

   “I’m setting the BLIP mod.  Prepare for transmission.”  Pidge mounted the egg-shaped device under the tower’s eaves, and as soon as it was attached, the module opened and began to shine a rainbow of colors into the cavern below.

   Allura’s voice came over the com.  “Transmission received.  We’re deciphering now.”

   Miela’s warm, slightly accented voice came on next.  “The holding cells are all against the far wall of the compound, and most of them are below ground.  The infirmary is in the corner, below Pidge’s current position.  It looks like there aren’t too many people there just now…”  She gave a sigh of relief.  “I count only three bodies there, and at least one of them is bound to be Matik.”

   Pidge gave an affirmative grunt.  “Great.  I’ll go in and try to hack one of their computers to see when and where their shipment lands.”

   Allura spoke up.  “The rest of you should try to neutralize the slavers.  There’s a cluster of bodies right in the clearing at the center of the compound, near that little circular structure.”

   “That’s a well,” Miela told her.

   Allura glanced at her.  “The group by the well.  Pidge, what do you make of them?”

   Pidge squinted through her visor, and it focused on the group in question.  “They look like slaves, not slavers,” she said.  She did a quick head count.  “Most of them are wearing collars like Miela had on.”

   “That’s not a good sign,” Miela murmured.  “That means the prisoners are ready to be shipped.  The slightest upset could mean riot gear and other deterrents.”

   “Is there any surefire way in?” Keith asked.

   “Sure,” said Miela.  “Get captured.”

   “Miela,” Keith growled.

   “You asked,” she reminded him.  “I’m patching myself in through your visors.  It shouldn’t affect your vision.”  She took a moment to study the five screens that popped up above her console.  “Pidge, look around for me.”

   “Give me a tick.”  She panned around, allowing her visor time to transmit the entire scene.  “Why do these buildings even _have_ roofs?” she said, as if it was just occurring to her that inside a cave, they shouldn’t need them.

   “A couple reasons,” Allura said.  “It makes climate control easier; heat rises, after all.  Secondly, it gets pretty humid in those caves.  If you’ll look up, you might notice the mist in the space above you.  After a period of several quintants, it condenses and falls back to ground.”

   Pidge looked up, and noticed the fog for the first time.  “You’re saying it _rains_ in here?”

   “Rain?” Allura asked.

   Coran piped up.  “Ah, yes!  Lance was telling me about the stuff!  It’s an earth weather pattern.”

   “I’d love for it to rain,” Lance sighed.

   Shiro looked at him.  “This might be the wrong time for reminiscing, Lance,” he chided.

   “Wait,” said Pidge, “this place has its own ecosystem.  If we alter it, it could turn things in our favor.”

   “We won’t be able to without our lions,” said Hunk.

   “Don’t be so sure,” Miela said over the com.  “All it would take to alter the weather patterns is a heat wave.”

   Shiro cocked an eyebrow.  “What are you thinking?”

   “The kitchens are forward, to the right of the main gate.  Hunk knows his way around a commissary.  If he drains the cooking fuel into the plaza, one of you could start a good-sized fire.”

   Keith smirked.  “That sounds like a great distraction.  How do we get in?”

   “Look up and to your left.”

   The red paladin looked.  Just above him, one of the buildings overhung the ledge by a few feet, where the rocks in its foundation had fallen out from under it.  Keith smirked.  “We’ll come up through the floor.”

  Hunk made a circle with his thumb and finger.  “Easy as pie.”

   “You’ve got six people up there,” said Miela’s voice.  “Probably all serving lunch.  Wait long enough, and they’ll all move to different areas.”

   “That’s a pretty good idea,” said Lance.  “We can be done before they get back.”

   Shiro nodded.  “And while the fire’s got them distracted, we gain another element of surprise.”  He looked around at his team.  “Let’s get moving.  It would be nice if we could all get our chores done at the same time.”


	50. “This is the Time” - Nothing More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find their way into the monastery, and Filomena and Allura have a butting of heads

   Between Shiro and Keith, the paladins were easily able to cut away the sub-floor of the building that overhung their position.  The noise from the kitchens obscured the sounds of them cutting through the floorboards, and Keith finally pushed the cutout away and poked his head up into what looked like a pantry.

   “Dry goods storage,” he said, and pulled himself out of the hole.  “We’re lucky we didn’t end up in a refrigerator.”

   “Like that would stop us,” Lance scoffed, and turned to help Hunk climb out of the hole.

   “All right,” said Miela.  “They’re gathering at the… oh no.”

   “What’s wrong?” Shiro asked.

   “They’re gathering at the wrong door!  They’re heading into the dining hall, not across the plaza!  They’re feeding the officers!”

   “We have to work fast, then.  Say when.”

   “Five ticks.”  She began counting down.  “Four, three, two, one.”

   Shiro and Keith burst through the door together, into the empty kitchen.

   Hunk took charge and began issuing directions to each of his teammates.  “Keith, get the valve behind the ovens.  You’ll turn it all the way to the right.  Lance, you hit the one behind the range.  Shiro, you get the one on the water heater.  I’ll get the emergency runoff valve.”

   Each of the paladins rushed to obey.  Shiro recognized the massive cylindrical structure that, it suddenly occurred to him, shouldn’t look so familiar.  “A water heater,” he mumbled to himself.  He cocked an eyebrow.  “This looks like… something my grandparents had in their basement.”  He hummed.  “If this is Earth tech, then I shouldn’t have any problems.”  He reached into the gap between the tank and the wall and grasped the handle.  The water heater’s rusted valve came off in Shiro’s cybernetic hand.  “Oh no,” he groaned.

   “What is it?” Hunk asked.

   Shiro held up the valve.  “If it’s not one thing, it’s ten.”  He jerked his head at the three boys.  “You guys get out of here.  I’ll finish this up.”  

   Hunk nodded and ushered Keith and Lance out of the kitchen.

   He dropped the handle and went to work at the damaged pipe, using all the strength his prosthetic could muster.  When it wouldn’t open, he looked down at his hand.  They couldn’t light the fire until he was out of there, could they?  He looked up at the water heater and harrumphed.  He remembered that these things could be dangerous when not serviced properly.  Maybe he could use that to his advantage.  He closed his hand into a fist, and it shimmered purple and came to life.

   “Takashi?”  Filomena’s voice purred in his ear.  “You need to get out of there.  They’re coming back.”

   He couldn’t think of anything to say.  “I…I’m sorry,” he finally stammered.  “I’m splitting off.  I’ll regroup when I can.”

   Keith’s voice cut in.  “Shiro, what are you doing?”

   “Starting a fire.”  He drew back and threw all his force into a single punch that knocked the valve clean off the water heater.  His prosthetic ignited the fuel with a threatening hiss.

   Shiro turned and sprinted back into the pantry, and dove back into the hole from whence he had come.  He landed in the coarse gravel at the bottom of the ravine, uncomfortable, but uninjured.  But he knew what would happen next, so he hauled himself to his feet.

   Hunk instantly recognized the high-pitched whine coming from inside the kitchen.  “Move!” he cried.  “Get to cover, now!”  He pushed the red and blue paladins into the open, across the courtyard, throwing caution to the winds.

   “Hunk, they’re going to spot us!” Keith said, resisting his friend’s insistent push.  He leaned out of Hunk’s reach, but kept moving in the direction he had been pushed.

   “If we don’t get out of here, there won’t be anything left to spot!” Hunk insisted.  “Shiro damaged the _water heater_!”

   Keith gasped and stopped in his tracks.  “He _what_?”  He spun around and looked back at the building.  “Shiro!”

   Lance looked over his shoulder.  “Wai-wait, wait!  What does that me-?”

   The explosion cut him off, the force of the blast ramming them and propelling them across the clearing.

   It all happened at once.  The building came apart in all directions, wood and stone and metal expanding around a bubble of gas and flame.  The foundations came out from under the building, the stones of the ravine crumbling around Shiro.  The blast shoved him into the ground, battered him, and rolled him back into the tunnel from whence he had come.  He only had a moment to push himself up and shove himself back into the darkness before the cornerstone of the demolished building collapsed the cave.

   Hunk and Lance tumbled into the shadow of the buildings across the courtyard, but Keith, who had turned back to try and retrieve Shiro, was blasted into the center of the open space.  The giant fireball threw him back and slammed him against the well, crushing his jet pack into his shoulder blades and driving the air from his lungs.  He pitched backward again, unable to find balance or purchase, and found himself diving headfirst into darkness.

   Pidge looked up at the sound.  “Guys?  Guys, what was that?”

   Miela snarled a curse into her ear.  “Something just destroyed the commissary.”

   “Guys, we said, ‘start a fire,’ not, ‘blow up a building’!” Pidge yelled into the com.

   “Hey, it wasn’t _my_ idea!” Hunk griped.

   “Sound off!” Allura commanded.  “Is everyone all right?”

   Pidge: “I was outside the blast radius.”

   Hunk: “I’m fine.”

   Lance: “Yeah.  Yeah, we’re good.”

   Two voices were notably absent.

   Allura leaned into her console.  “Lance and Hunk, head to the cells and start evacuating the prisoners as quickly and quietly as you can.  Keith, Shiro, sound off!”

   Keith’s voice finally came over the com, rough and breathless.  “I’m okay,” he gasped.  “I got tossed into the well.”  There was a short pause.  “My jet pack is out of commission.  I might be able to climb out, but it’ll take me a while.”

   Allura shook her head.  “Don’t climb out.  You’ll be surrounded in less than ten ticks.”

   Keith pressed his feet to one wall of the well, and propped his back against the other.  “I’m open to suggestions,” he breathed.  “I can’t tread water forever.”

   “Dive,” Miela said.  “That well leads into the local aquifer.”  She looked up at the set of red sigils converging on the courtyard.  “Dive, Keith!  Now!”

   Keith obeyed, and disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

   While the red paladin searched the bottom of the well, Filomena tapped into Shiro’s com system.  “Takashi, are you all right?”  She swallowed and tried again.  “Takashi, please, answer me!”

   At the sound of the unfamiliar name, Allura glanced over at her.  “Takashi?” she murmured.  

   Filomena glanced over at her.  “That’s his name,” she said.  “Y-you didn’t know his name?”

   She shrugged.  “They all just call him ‘Shiro’,” she said.  “You’re the only one who calls him T-…”  It hit her then, and she stopped suddenly and studied the woman.  “He’s never called you ‘Miela’, has he?” she asked slowly.

   Filomena shook her head.

   A flash of betrayal crossed the princess’ royal features, and she turned to step in her direction.

   A tired voice from the com stopped her.  “Allura, I… I’m here.”

   The princess spun to look at her screen again.  “Shiro!  Are you all right?”

   “I’m not sure yet.”  The screen indicating his visual periphery shook to and fro.  He groaned, and the movement stopped.  “I got hit pretty hard.  My head…”  He made a noise, and his right hand appeared onscreen to adjust his helmet.  “I’ll be okay.”  

   Allura studied her console for a moment.  “Your vitals look a little off-kilter,” she said.  “Your heart’s racing, and your -”

   “I’ll be fine,” he interrupted.

   “What’s your status?” Miela asked.

   Shiro uttered a low laugh into the com.  “It’s good to hear your voice.”  He paused a moment while he looked around.  “I’m pinned down.  I don’t think anything’s broken, though.”  He thought for a moment.  “Nope.  Nothing broken.”  He pushed himself up off the ground and made a strained sound.  “Ah, no good.  I’m stuck.”  He sighed.  “Well, that keeps me out of any more trouble.”

   Allura waved her hands over her console.  “I’ve locked onto your position, Shiro,” she said.  “Don’t worry.  Help is on the way.”

   “I guess I can stick around, then.”

   Allura glanced over at her second in command.  “Coran, take the com.”  

   “Yes, Princess.”

   She stepped down off the central pedestal and took three quick steps toward Filomena.  “How long has this been going on?” she asked sharply.

   The woman guessed at what she meant.  “He… He kissed me for the first time last night,” she stammered.  She blushed and looked at her feet.

   Allura’s frown let up, and she sighed resignedly.  “Thank you for your honesty.  We will talk about this more later.”  She moved toward the door.

   “Of course.”  Miela followed her with her eyes for a few steps before she realized what was going through the princess’ mind.  “Y-you’re not seriously thinking about going down there-!”

   “Of course I am,” she replied shortly.  “Without Shiro, we won’t have enough power to take the monastery.”

   Filomena followed her out into the hall.  “Allura, I’m no use to you sitting up here in the castle,” she said.  “Let me go down there.  I know the routes, and…”

   Allura held up a hand to stop her.  “I’ve heard it before.  I don’t disbelieve you, but I can’t allow you to go down there.”

   Filomena’s determined stare matched hers.  “And I can’t, in good conscience, let you leave.”

   “Is this you trying to stop me?”

   “Yes, I suppose it is.”


	51. “Careless Whisper” - Seether (original by Wham!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura makes up her mind

   The two women stared each other down in the corridor outside the bridge.  Neither of them wanted to fight, verbally or physically, and the look of unfortunate necessity was mirrored on each of their faces.

   Allura took up a defensive stance.  “I need you to move.  If you don’t, make no mistake, I _will_ move you.”

   Filomena’s face became sad.  “You misunderstand me, Princess.  I would never use physical force against you.  I just need to inform you that I feel my abilities could be put to better use elsewhere.”

   “We are wasting time,” Allura said softly.  “They need us.  Both of us.  And we are already fighting one battle; we’d be self-sabotaging if we start fighting among ourselves.”  She maneuvered around Filomena, content that the woman wouldn’t jump her on her way past.  She was a woman faithful to her word, after all.  “If what Shiro told me about your relationship is true, I’d be risking more by letting you go down there than I would if I went.”

   “I can’t be objective, and you can?” Miela asked as she followed Allura down the hall.

   “If you want to put it that bluntly,” Allura said with a sideways nod.  “Also, I need you to stay on the com with Coran and help guide Keith through the aquifer; it’s the only part of the caverns that hasn’t been mapped.  The other four paladins are still our best chance at taking the monastery, and currently, Keith and Pidge have vantage points that could benefit us.”

   “Keith might,” Miela informed her.  “After that explosion, they’re _going_ to employ riot control methods.  It’s no longer a hypothetical.  Pidge’s position could compromise her.”

   Allura stopped and spun, her face centimeters from Miela’s.  “Then you had better be dictating every move they make,” she growled threateningly.

   Miela was not intimidated.  “Princess, they’re your paladins.”

   “Yes, and it’s my job to protect them!” she barked.  “Now, I can’t do this on my own.  I’m _assigning_ you a position on my ship, and I expect you to do the task I set for you.  Is that clear?”

   The woman held her gaze only a moment longer before breaking eye contact.  “Yes, Princess.”

   Shame suddenly pierced Allura’s chest.  This was the kind of tone needed to break through Filomena’s stubborn streak?  She hated that it took treating her as a subordinate to get her to obey; it made her feel as if she were treating the woman as a slave again.  No, she couldn’t take responsibility for that.  Allura had said nothing she wouldn’t have just as quickly said to her other paladins.  Miela had a place among them now, and she would have to accept that position one way or another.  That being said, she still couldn’t quite trust that Filomena wouldn’t follow her to the planet’s surface.

   Allura’s face relaxed, and she quickly knitted her fingers with Filomena’s.  “We’ll get through this,” she promised.  “We just have to work together.”

   Filomena glanced up, into her eyes, and Allura made her move.  She pressed a button on a control in her left hand, and an electronic cuff snapped closed around Filomena’s wrist.  A little string of green light pulsed out from the wall, and a strong electromagnet tethered her wrist to the side of the corridor.

   Panic flashed across the woman’s face, and she released Allura’s hand to grasp the edge of the cuff.  “What is this?” she asked.

   “I’m sorry,” Allura intoned, and she managed to sound truly sorry when she said it.  “It’s overkill, I know.  I know you’ll find a way out of those in a dobosh, but I had to be sure you would stay where I put you.”

   “Allura, please don’t do this.  You’ve got to let me help-!”

   “I will,” said the princess.  “But you have to trust me.”

   Miela was silent, only her eyes continuing to plead.

   Allura smiled, then she turned and sprinted away, with the captive woman crying objections down the hall after her.

   Miela thrashed against the cuff until she thought she might dislocate her thumb.  The electricity in the device prickled on her skin, made the muscles in her arm flex involuntarily.  She growled and looked at the cuff.  The green energy of it pulsed along with her heartbeat.  She bent her fingers into a claw and focused her mind on the green light in the device.  If Allura was right, and she really could manipulate the castle’s energy, then all it would take was a little tweaking.

   The green light flared brightly, and the cuff snapped open.

   Miela stared at the cuff for two ticks before she ran after Allura.  She didn’t waste breath calling after the princess until she caught sight of her stepping into the airlock bay.  “Allura!”

   The princess turned and gave her a sad little smile through the visor of her helmet, and shut the door.

   Miela slammed into the door after her, both hands ahead of her.  She shouted through the thick glass pane, not altogether sure if the young woman could hear her or not.  “Allura, I beg you!  Please, reconsider!”  She slapped her palm against the glass.

   But the princess just gave her a resigned look.  “I’ve made up my mind,” she said, her voice tinny over the speaker.  “Watch over them for me.”  Then she turned and mounted her speeder.

   “Allura!  Princess Allura!”

   The airlock doors opened, and the princess and her speeder were gone.


	52. “Headlock” - Imogen Heap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter just for Pidge

   Miela charged back onto the bridge and took control of the com system again.  Before Shiro or Allura or anyone else, she needed to make sure the infirmary was clear.  “Pidge!” she barked, quite before she had gotten ahold of her emotions.

   The green paladin was hiding in the tower corridor, just out of sight.  “Yeah?”  

   Miela took a deep breath and finally calmed herself.  “Once they get that fire under control, they’ll gas the entire compound.  Matik is the only one who knows where my son is.  Get her out and get to high ground.”

   “I’m on it.”  Pidge ducked into the main hall, stealthily picking her way from door to door.  “Are you sure about this, Miela?” she asked.  “This doesn’t look much like a hospital.”

   “I know,” said the woman.  “It used to be munitions storage, before Matik joined us.”

   “I’ll file that away under useful trivia,” Pidge mumbled.  She checked her map.  Not much farther.  She turned toward the indicated door and stood there for a moment.  “Miela, shouldn’t it open?”

   “It should,” said the woman.  “They might have locked it up after the explosion.”

   Pidge glanced over at the key pad to the right of the door.  “No problem.”  She drew her bayard and touched its electric green tip to the wiring.  There was the crackle of protesting energy, and the door opened.

   There was a high-pitched yelp from inside, and her eyes focused on two individuals on the far side of the large room.  An older, brown-skinned Unilu with bags under his eyes was holding a long, thin being in front of him.  She was pale, jaundiced in color, with massive black eyes, and was several inches taller than him.  That had to be Matik.  Two of the smaller one’s hands were pinning the other alien to him, and the other two were pressing a couple of medical implements to her throat.

   “Stay back!” he commanded gruffly.  “I’ll kill her!”

   “I don’t doubt it,” said Pidge.  “But I’m not here for you.”

   The four-armed being tightened its grip on Matik.  “Then what do you want?  A trade?”

   “I’m not sure I’d have anything you want,” said Pidge.

   The Unilu dropped one hand from Matik’s throat and gestured at her.  “I need to know what you want, first.”

   Pidge thought quickly.  “We came to rescue our captured kin.”

   “Kin?” the Unilu asked.  “Then Matik is one of yours?  My, my, this gives me the upper _hands_.”

   The green paladin straightened her figure.  “No.”  She was counting the seconds until they gassed the building, but she had to take the risk.  She reached up and pulled off her helmet.  “She’s not one of mine.”

   Matik inhaled sharply at the sight of the girl’s face.  “You’re… you’re like _her_!”

   The Unilu peeked over the Grey’s shoulder, and then jabbed the tip of the scalpel up under Matik’s jaw.  “You came for Honey, then,” he growled.  “Well, you’re too late.  She wandered off and got herself killed, last I heard.”

   Pidge lowered her chin.  “Then I have no use for either of you.”  She raised her bayard.  She had no intention of killing them, but she had the upper hand as long as she could appear threatening.

   “Wait, wait!” the smaller alien said.  He released Matik and dropped his weapons.  “The Grey knows about humans, knows Honey left something behind.  Take her.”  He pushed Matik roughly away from him.  “She can be of use to you.”

   Matik spun and delivered a string of alien curses that failed to translate.

   The Unilu touched his head in a smug little salute, and began inching his way toward the door.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to escape before they carpet-bomb the place.”

   Pidge cast him a withering glare.  “Then leave before I change my mind about sparing your life.”  She watched him all the way to the door, and waited until he was gone to drop the act.  She ran to the door and touched the tip of her bayard to the key pad again.  She hacked the security with a few taps on her gauntlet, and the door slid closed.

   “What do you want?” Matik asked sharply.  Her voice was high and slightly nasal, but at the same time crisp as fresh snow.

   “Honey sent me to get you,” Pidge answered.  She turned and gave the alien a relieved smile.

   “Forgive me if I’m not so gullible,” the Grey replied, standing to her full height.  

   “I’m being serious!” Pidge insisted.  “We picked her up, and she’s been aboard our ship for the last three quintants.”

   “If you know her so well, then what name did her mother give her?”

   Pidge smirked.  “Filomena.”  It was clear from her expression that Matik hadn’t expected her to know that.  “She has reddish hair, and a scar across her stomach.”  Pidge took a single step closer.  “She said you were the only one who knew where her baby was.

   “I… I do.”  Matik slowly let down her guard.  “She really sent you?”

   “Yes.  We’re getting you all out of here today.”

   Matik slowly shook her bald head.  “Who are you?”

   “I’m a paladin of Voltron,” Pidge said.  “I pilot the green lion.”

   “Voltron is real?”  Matik rubbed at her temple.  “I’m sorry, this is a lot to process at once.”

   Pidge spread her hands in a helpless gesture.  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know after we get out of here, Matik.  Let’s go!”

   “No, we can’t!” the alien cried.  “After that explosion, it’s best if you find a ventilation mask and stay here with me.  There are more of you, yes?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Then seal the door until help arrives.”

   “I can’t,” said Pidge.  “I have to find her baby.”

   Matik growled.  “Stubborn human girl.”  Then she sighed and turned to face the far wall.  She leaned into the side of a rickety bookcase and pushed it to the side with her shoulder, revealing a thin cutout in the wall behind it.  “Follow me.”

   Pidge followed her into the dark passage.  “You seem awfully reluctant.”

   “There’s no ventilation down here,” Matik explained.  “It’s a quiet enough place to put _myshonok_ down for a nap, but if it were to be gassed, the fumes would be trapped down here for gods know how long.  Stay exposed to that stuff, and you’ll go blind, or worse, suffocate.”

   “Then we’ll grab him and go.  Waking the baby right now is the least of our worries.”  Pidge narrowed one eye at Matik.  “Did you just call him ‘little mouse’?”

   Matik looked at her.  “How did you…?”  Then she turned and continued down the rocky path.  “Ah, right.  Earthling.  Are you Russian?”

   “No, I had a friend at school who called me that.  She taught me a few words, but I’m not fluent.”

   The edges of Matik’s mouth turned up slightly, and she harrumphed.  “Your people are known to be very resourceful, Green Paladin.  Perhaps you’ll get us out of here after all.”  She pushed aside a tattered sheet she had strung up as a curtain, and led her into a small, dimly lit grotto with a single blanket folded in the center of the earthen floor.  In the middle, creating a crater in the soft mound, was the tiny figure of a human child, no more than three months old.

   Miela inhaled a sharp gasp, which clearly transmitted over the com system.  “Cesare…” she whispered.

   Pidge put her helmet back on.  “What?” she asked.

   Miela snapped out of it.  “Th-that’s him!  That’s Cesare, my son!”

   Pidge looked up at Matik.  “She said his name is Cesare.”

   The alien nodded and scooped the bundle of blankets into her left arm, using her right hand to brace the baby against her chest.  “I have a respirator back upstairs.  Maybe two.  I’m not sure.”

   “Where would I find it?” the girl asked.

   “In the cabinet beyond the table, left of the door.”

   Pidge rushed back up to the main floor and looked to the left.  The only table she could see was an operating table, a cold steel slab that bore little resemblance to what she would rather have seen.  She ran over and began tearing her way through the cabinets surrounding it.  She came up with two half masks, supposedly meant to fit over the bottom of the face.

   “I found them!” she cried.  She spun and waved the masks at Matik, who was just coming through the door.  “Do you have goggles or something?”

   “No,” she replied.  “I usually just drape a wet blanket over my head.”

   “Yeah, well, we can’t do that with the baby,” Pidge said.  She trotted over and tried to press the respirator to the little boy’s face.  It was much too big, and besides, the tot began to whine and push on the device.  “That’s not gonna work,” Pidge mumbled.  She took a deep breath as a sense of dread settled into her bones.  “I… I need a few ticks.”

   “Please hurry,” Matik urged, but didn’t stop her as Pidge walked across the room and began pacing.

   “Pidge,” Miela said, “you need to get to high ground.”

   “I don’t have enough gear to get us out unscathed,” said the girl.  She swallowed, and then tried a calming breath.  “Cesare is too young to wear a respirator,” she informed Miela.  “Even if he could, there’s no way to protect his eyes…”  She choked on her words.

   “Pidge?” Miela asked.  “What are you thinking?”

   The girl swallowed and opened her com lines to anyone who might be listening.  “I…I’m going quiet for a bit, guys.  If you want to reach me, you’d better come get me.”

   Hunk and Lance looked up, and then looked at each other.  

   “Where are you?” Hunk asked.

   “We’re holed up in the infirmary.  The door is sealed, so we’ll be safe until… until whenever, but we’re not gonna be able to make tracks anytime soon.  Worry about the prisoners first.  I’ve got things under control here.”  She was quiet just a moment longer.  “Shiro?”

   “I’m here, Pidge.”

   The green paladin blinked back tears.  “I’m not gonna be able to see him in a few ticks, so I thought I’d tell you… He’s beautiful.”  She bit back a sob.  “He looks just like his mom.”

   Shiro inhaled sharply.  “Pidge, don’t take off your helmet!”

   “I’m sorry, Shiro.  I’m sorry, everyone.”

   “Pidge, no!”

   The green paladin turned off her com and pulled her helmet over her head.  She turned to Matik.  “Raise his head,” she commanded.  “I’ll take the respirator.”

   “You’re sure?” the alien asked.

   “We don’t have time for alternatives,” Pidge murmured.  She sniffed once and gently wiggled the helmet on over the baby’s head.  Cesare jerked in Matik’s arms, and then, once he was comfortable again, snuggled into her and went back to sleep.  Pidge helped Matik fasten a mask over her face, and then placed the other over her own mouth and nose.  “What do I need to expect?” she asked.  She took a deep breath to prepare herself.

   Matik shuffled the baby into her arms.  “Your eyes will probably water first, followed by itching and then burning.  Eventually, they’ll swell closed, and after that it’s just itching.”

   Pidge exhaled.  “Okay.  Okay, I’m ready.”  She sat down against the wall, with Cesare in her arms.

   “You’ll never be ready,” Matik said gently.  She turned and sat down next to Pidge.  “But I’ll be here with you, all the way through it.”  She patted Pidge’s arm.  “Try not to scream.  Human children are… very impressionable.”

   Pidge looked at her.  Her tone was matter-of-fact and emotionless, but Pidge realized then that the reason she had said it was because she cared for the child.  She exhaled.  “Do you know… I’m fourteen years old?” she asked.

   “You must be scared.”

   Pidge laughed, just because it was better than crying.  “Terrified.”

   Matik hummed thoughtfully.  “Honey used to sing songs when she was scared.  My kind prefer other instruments, but I always loved her voice.”  She looked at the girl.  “Do you know any songs?”

   “A couple.  I’m not a great singer like her, though.”  She cleared her throat.  “'There once was a tree,

   A pretty little tree,

   The prettiest tree

   That you ever did see.'”  Quiznak, her voice was shaking.  She gulped down the panic, and forced herself onward.

   “'Oh, the tree in a hole,

   And a hole in the ground,

   And the green grass grew all around, all around,

   And the green grass grew all around.'”

   Cesare wiggled and fussed, and she bounced him gently in her arms and shushed him.  “It’ll be okay,” she whispered.  “Aunt Katie is going to take care of you.”  And with that, she went on singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind, the baby's name is Italian. Cesare is pronounced Ches-a-ray.


	53. “Sweet Rivers of Redeeming Love” - John A. Granade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela guides Keith through the underground waterway

   Shiro screamed his frustrations into an all-too-silent com.  “Pidge!”  The black paladin struggled under the rockslide, digging his prosthetic into the rocky soil to try to extricate himself before she did something unduly reckless.  “Pidge!”  Since she clearly wasn’t going to answer, he tried something else.  “Allura!  How are her vitals?”

   “She’s fine for now,” came her answer.  “She’s scared, but that’s all.”

   Shiro let out a heartbroken sound into the receiver.

   Keith’s voice responded.  “We’ll get her out, Shiro.  You know we will.”  He switched his attention to the map.  “Miela, help me out, here.”

   The woman blinked back tears and zoomed in on Keith’s position.  “I’m here.  Did you find your way out of the well?”

   “It wasn’t hard to find.  I can’t even see the entrance anymore.”  Keith kicked and pushed his way through the tunnel.  “At least it’s big enough to swim through.”  A sudden hard gust of water pushed him back a few feet.  “I’m starting to feel a current.”

   “That means you’re getting close to the source.  You’ll have to turn when you get to it.”

   Keith pulled his way along the jagged rocks, thankful for his protective suit.  He wished his jet packs worked, but only one would turn on, and that pushed him around in dizzying spirals.  Still, he was warm, dry, and breathing, and that was a good deal to be thankful for.  And, not ten feet later, he shone his headlamp into the bend of the main river.  “I’m here,” he told Miela.  He looked around.  There were a couple different tributaries ahead of him, and a larger tunnel off to his left, from which the river flowed.

   “All right, go upstream,” Miela instructed.  “You should swim right up to their filtration system intake pipe.”

   Keith harrumphed.  “So no one actually uses that well anymore?” he asked.

   “Of course not,” she said.  “It’s been closed up since they made base here.  But because the aquifer runs right under the monastery, it was practical to install indoor plumbing.”

   Keith turned left and fought his way against the current.  “The water’s getting stronger,” he breathed.

   “That probably means the tunnel is going to get wider soon.  You should reach the pipe right near the opening.”

   She was wrong.  At least, she was wrong at first.  The tunnel constricted, bit by bit, until Keith was barely squeezing through, and his body ached from fighting the strong current.  Then, quite suddenly, the rage of water slackened, and Keith was floating freely in open space.

   “I made it!” Keith said into the com.  He shone his headlamp around, and soon found a relatively new pipe, comfortably wide enough to swim into.  “I found the intake.  What next?”

   “There’s a manhole about ten feet from the filter.  It comes up in the boiler room.”

   “I see it.”  Keith propelled himself up into the secondary tunnel.  It was maybe three ticks before he breached the surface and reached up to grab the lowest rung of a metal ladder that descended into the water.  In doing so, he felt his fingertips brush something, and it toppled from its perch on the rung and hit the water next to him with a plop.  Keith froze for a moment, hoping no one above had heard the noise.  When nothing happened, he looked around for the thing he had knocked into the water.  

   Maybe it was because he had been looking straight up, but he had somehow failed to notice the hundreds of tiny spherical bodies that floated along the water line.  They were mostly white, with colorful little ridges that wrapped around them, like a rainbow array of sea urchins.  Keith stared a moment, his headlamp taking in the little balls a dozen at a time.

   “Miela,” he said, “I never asked you what these things were, but I think now would be a good time to know.”

   Her voice sounded hesitant in his ear.  “Matik called them ‘naiad eyes’.  I always thought they were an algae, but I don’t know for sure.  What I do know is that they absorb whatever contaminates the water.  It acts like a secondary filter for the facility.  Thing is, the contamination never kills them; it makes them grow.  It’s some kind of immune-defense mechanism.  After awhile, they have to send people down into the boiler to cut away the big ones, or they stop up the pipes.”

   “You think I can use one to help Pidge and Matik?” he asked.

   “Y-yeah, actually.  I hadn’t thought of that.”  She thought for a moment.  “The big ones have seen the most contamination.  You’ll want to find one of them.”

   “How big?”

   “I don’t know.  As big as you can easily carry.”

   Keith looked around.  “None of these are very big.”

   “The big ones sink.”

   Keith ducked his head below the surface and aimed his headlamp down into the pipe.  She was right; there was a pile of round, white orbs sitting in the intake pipe below him.  “Does the color matter?” he asked.

   “Not really,” she said.  “It changes depending on what chemicals the ‘eyes’ absorbed last.”

   Keith harrumphed and picked up one that was almost as large as a soccer ball.  It was white, like the one she had given him, but had teal and forest green spines.  “I guess that makes sense.”  He swam back up to the surface, tucked the naiad eye under his arm, and began climbing the ladder.  It took a little skillful balancing to be able to hold the sphere and push open the grate at the top of the ladder, and Keith rolled the eye onto the floor above before climbing out of the pipe himself.  “Okay,” he breathed.  “I’m inside.”

   “You’ll need to hurry if you want to use the naiad eye,” said Miela.  “They don’t like being out of the water.”  She turned and looked at Hunk’s and Lance’s visor screens, and opened her com to them.  “Guys, Keith is on the lowest floor, and will be heading your way.”

   Hunk’s screen spun as he slammed an unaware slaver into the nearest wall, knocking him senseless.  “Good,” he said.  “They’ve left a skeleton crew to guard the cells, after that explosion.  Keith, we’ll meet you upstairs.”

   “Got it.  Miela, what am I looking at?”

   “Two bodies in the corridor outside the boiler room, at opposite ends of the hall.”

   Keith hummed and reached back down into the pipe.  He had to lie on his stomach to reach the water line, and skimmed one of the smaller naiad eyes from the surface.  He got up again and found a place to stand, just out of sight of the door, and gently rolled the little ball out into the corridor.

   It had the desired effect; a figure in a full suit, complete with hood and respirator, stepped through the door.  Keith ducked out of sight and allowed the figure to pass him by on its way to the access grate.  It stooped to examine the large naiad’s eye in the middle of the floor, and the red paladin made his move; he stepped from hiding and rammed his bayard into the base of the guard’s skull.

   The creature’s head snapped forward, and it quietly crumpled to the floor.  Keith waited for it to get up, and then groaned as he realized there was still a guard at the other end of the hall.  Well, he could rush the guy.  He checked his map; no, the other end of the hall was too far away.  He’d sound an alarm before…

   And that’s when the lights went red, and a klaxon blared across a sound system.

   Well, there went that thought.

   Keith swung around the door frame, intent upon using the distraction to get the jump on a guard that was maybe fifty feet away.  It worked, too.  The guard was looking away when Keith entered the hall, and when he finally noticed the intruder, he was only able to get off a few scattered shots with his energy rifle before Keith sliced the weapon in half.  Using three measured feints, Keith carefully herded him sideways, into the door of an open cell.  With a single kick, he launched the guard into the back wall, and slammed the door shut.

   Keith stared down at the guard while he caught his breath.  “Has anyone else noticed that this bottom level is empty?”

   Miela’s voice answered.  “That must be where they’re planning to put the next shipment of slaves.”

   “Awfully small space,” Keith muttered.

   “I don’t recall ever saying living conditions were _pleasant_ ,” she retorted.  “The gas lines follow the sprinkler systems.  When those turn on, every room in the complex will be unbreathable.  You need to get as many prisoners out as you can.”

   Keith spun for the door.  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”


	54. “Citizen Soldier” - 3 Doors Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk and Lance rescue prisoners

   While Miela stayed busy directing Keith through the underground river, Lance and Hunk picked their way through the fortress toward the holding cells.  They weren’t terribly hard to find; the top row of them weren’t walled in.  They sat, exposed to the open air, each occupant pressed to the bars at different angles to see what was causing the ruckus.  They were of various species, but all of them wore ragged uniforms, much like Miela’s.

   Lance ran up to the first cell.  “This seems a little too easy,” he said.  “I’m not a genius, but…  Rusty bars?  No security?”

   Hunk pulled up his map.  “The real cells are probably in the building behind this one.  They just piled everyone in here while they dealt with the fire.”  He looked at Lance and shrugged.  “It was easy, if a little lazy.”  He checked his map again.  “The way out is through the wall, two floors down.  Lead the way.”

   “Back away from the door!” the blue paladin commanded, waving his hand at the prisoners.  Lance aimed his rifle into the lock and fired, and then pushed the door open.  “Okay, everyone, follow me!”  He turned and ran a few steps before he realized that they weren’t following him.  He stopped and returned to the door.  “Uh… What’s the holdup?” he asked.

   The group of prisoners stared up at him, blinking in confusion.  Then one of them, a purple, caterpillar-shaped creature that looked like Slav, spoke up.  “You… you look like Honey.”  Its voice was feminine and lilting, its accent almost Arabic. 

   Lance arched one eyebrow at her.  “Well… I… I guess.  I’m human.”  He looked at Hunk.  “We don’t really look that much alike, do we?”

   “Later, Lance!” Hunk growled.  He knocked one rusty door off its hinges with a couple good kicks, and then raised his voice.  “All right!” he bellowed.  “We are humans, we are friends with the woman you call ‘Honey’, and we are here to rescue you.  If anyone wants to get out of this building before they gas us, you’d better start moving _right now_!”  

   That got them moving.  They were weak and slow; Hunk imagined that they were pretty malnourished, but some of them, especially the larger prisoners, had big, angry-looking bruises and untreated injuries.

   “What happened?” Hunk asked the alien who had spoken earlier.

   “They make us fight,” she said.  She ducked under the arm of one such injured soul and tried to haul him to his feet.  “They pit us against each other to see which of us they can sell as fighters, and which of us remain household slaves.”  She strained under the other alien’s weight; he was much bigger than her, with a tusked face and crocodilian scales on his back.

   Hunk let out a disgusted growl at the idea and helped the woman carry her friend from the cell.  “We’ll be out of here soon,” he assured her, “and then you’ll never have to worry about that again.”  He jerked his head at Lance.  “Just follow the blue paladin.”

   Lance led them into the bunker behind the rusted cells, while Hunk gently shepherded the prisoners in after him.

   “This is your plan?” the purple alien whispered at Hunk.  “We just came from these cells!”

   Hunk looked down at her.  “Hey, you don’t seem to have a lot of choices in saviors at the moment.  Show us a little faith, yeah?”  The alien looked appropriately shamed for a moment, and then Hunk sighed.  “This cell block is built into a preexisting tunnel.  All we have to do is blow out a wall, and boom; exit strategy.”  He smirked.  “Like I said, have a little faith.”

   “Uh, Hunk?”

   The yellow paladin looked up.  “Yeah?”

   “These aren’t the same kind of rusty bars we were looking at a couple doboshes ago.”

   He was right.  These doors were sturdy metal slabs without analog locks.  Hunk harrumphed and looked at his purple companion.  “Can you take him for a few ticks?”

   “I-I’ll try.”

   Hunk let the larger alien down onto her shoulders and quickly looked around.  “All right, these are digital.  There’s got to be a control panel around here somewhere…”

   Lance pushed his way through the small crowd and wedged himself under the injured alien’s arm to take some of the weight off the small purple figure.  “There’s the one by the door,” he suggested.  “That’s the only one I saw.”

   Hunk turned around and wedged himself behind his friend so he could access the door panel.  He gently opened the controls and looked at the wires one at a time.  “No, no good.  This one only works for _this_ door.”  The prisoners parted for him as he edged back to the front of the crowd.  Finally, he heaved a sigh and opened his com.  “Miela?”

   “I’m here.”

   “Do you happen to know where the door controls are for this floor?”

   “Middle of the hall, floor-level, right side.”

   Hunk raised an eyebrow.  “Really?  I figured each door would have its own panel.”  Still, he trotted to the center of the corridor and knelt to look for the panel.

   “They do, but each one is encoded.  It’s easier just to override it manually.”

   “How did you even know this was here?” the yellow paladin asked.

   “Look left.”

   Hunk looked.  There, beside him, not three feet away, was a heavy steel door.  The only blemish on its surface was a small, rectangular cutout just below knee level.  Hunk’s eyes widened.  “That… that was the cell they kept you in.”

   “Most of the time.  The better fighters were kept in that cell.  We looked after each other.”

   The yellow paladin smirked, flipped the panel open, and got to work.  “With any luck, they can help us with the other prisoners, once we get them out.”

   Lance cocked his head.  “What are you going to do, man?  Hack the security?  You’re not Pidge in disguise, are you?”

   Hunk shot him a disappointed look.  “Seriously?” he asked.  “I’m an _engineer_.  I’m gonna hotwire it.”  Lance made his best attempt at a shrug, and Hunk shook his head at him and resumed working.  

   It took him less than thirty ticks to open the doors to all the cells.  He let out a triumphant laugh and shook his fist as the row of steel doors hissed open one after another.

   Then, of all things that could possibly go wrong, the lights went red, and an alarm began to blare.

   Lance shot him a look.  “Hunk!”

   Hunk waved his hands at him.  “I-I didn’t set it off!”  He turned on his com again.  “Miela!  Elevators?  Stairs?”

   “They’ve shut down the elevators,” she said.  “Go through the floor.”

   Hunk got up and ran into the cell Miela had indicated, and shouted orders inside, just as he had before.  This group was faster on their feet, and definitely willing to help.  When he was sure everyone was ready to leave, he drew his bayard.  It instantly transformed into the hefty energy cannon he had slowly been getting used to.  He fired into the floor without aiming.  “All right!” he yelled.  “Everybody down, now, now, now!”  And with that, he hopped down the hole, using his jet packs to slow his descent.

   The ceiling had collapsed on top of one of the guards, and the other was running for the elevator shaft.  Hunk raised his cannon, but was surprised when a blue bolt of energy swept past him, striking the uniformed figure in the dead center of its back.  It fell and slid, face first, to a halt.

   The yellow paladin turned and looked over his shoulder at Lance, who shrugged.  “Sharpshooter,” he reminded Hunk.

   “You don’t have to remind me.”  He reached out to Keith.  “Hey, Keith!  Where are you?”

   “Second floor, far end,” his voice replied.  “The elevator’s out, so I climbed.”

   “As long as you’re out of the way.”  Hunk hefted the cannon and aimed another round into the floor.

   Keith ran up to the hole and looked up at Hunk.  “Great timing!”

   “Thank me later,” Hunk replied.  He hopped down and glanced once at his map before ducking into a cell on his left.  “All right, I need everybody out _now_!”  He brought the cannon to bear to emphasize his point, and there were a few frightened gasps before the bodies in the cell began to filter out.  When the cell was vacant, he blasted the wall to pieces.  He turned and smirked at Keith.  “I could really get used to doing things your way,” he murmured.

   Keith gave him a dry look.  “That’s your impression of how I do things?”  

   “I guess so.”  Hunk looked down at the large, colorful sphere he had cradled in one arm.  “What is that thing?”

   Keith shook his head.  “Never mind.”  He looked over at the frightened prisoners around him.  “I need you all to follow the blue paladin out of here,” he said, pointing at Lance.

   “Wha- me?” Lance asked.  “I thought Hunk was leading the exodus!”

   Keith looked up at him.  “I’m going to need his help rescuing Pidge and Matik.”

   “Yeah,” said Hunk, “and then I can go get Shiro, if…”

   They all looked at each other, and the same thing occurred to all of them, almost at the same time.

   Keith was the first to say it.  “You guys don’t think… you don’t think she’d do that, do you?”

   Lance put both hands on his hips.  “I wouldn’t put anything past the women in our group.”

   Hunk cocked his head.  “Are we talking about Honey or Allura?  Because I’m with Lance, here.  I won’t put anything past either of them.”

   Lance growled and rolled his eyes, and then hopped down from the ceiling.  “All right.  Everyone, head into the tunnel, and don’t stop moving!”  He looked at Hunk.  “I’m going to need help boosting us back up there.”

   The yellow and blue paladins each hooked an arm around Keith and gave him a boost to the top floor, where they had entered the cell block.  Lance gave the two of them a wave, and then disappeared once more through the hole in the floor.


	55. “Wind of the Western Sea” - Graham Peel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro tries to fake being okay, and Filomena isn't convinced

   Shiro had no idea who was coming for him.  He couldn’t move his left arm or his legs, and oh, how he had tried!  He couldn’t stand the few doboshes of inactivity, not while his crew were fighting for their lives in this disaster they were calling a mission.  He could almost see all the things that could go wrong; the horrible images flickered in front of his eyes one at a time like an awful slideshow.  Pidge was trapped in that complex with dozens of enemies and noxious fumes, and there was nothing he could do.

   If only he could get to her; to any of them.  If only he could be useful.  If only. 

   He brought his prosthetic up in front of his visor, turned it on, and turned it off again.  He sighed and touched his head again.  He was getting tired.  He had cut Allura off before she could say it, but he knew in his heart that something was wrong.  His vision was blurry, and he was having trouble breathing, along with some severe abdominal pain.

   Well, nothing he could do right now.  He let the muscles in his neck relax, lowering his head to the rocky floor of the cave.  “Filomena?” he breathed.

   “I’m here, Takashi.”

   “How are things looking?”

   Filomena glanced at the other screens.  “Humming along,” she said, her voice tight.

   Shiro hummed into the com.  “Talk to me.”

   She sighed.  “Lance is leading the prisoners out of the cell block.  Hunk and Keith are on their way to get Pidge.”

   He harrumphed.  “Well, at least something’s going right.”  No use.  He could feel himself fading.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I went a little too far off the plan.”

   “Takashi, what’s wrong?” her voice asked.

   “N-nothing.  I…I’m just kind of tired…”  His eyes felt so _heavy_.  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he shut them for just a moment…

   “Takashi?  Takashi!”  

   Shiro could hear her saying his name, but after that, her words became indistinct.  

   When he opened his eyes again, he was in his quarters.  He was lying on his cot, and she was sitting beside him, humming a song he had heard only once before.

   “‘Over the rolling waters go,

   Come from the dying moon and blow,

   Blow him again to me, while my little one,

   While my pretty one sleeps.’”

   He made an attempt to sit up, but his body was weak and exhausted.

   She turned and looked down at him, and gave him a slightly worried smile.  “You have to wake up, Takashi.”

   “Why?” he asked.  “Am I dreaming?”

   Filomena bent and kissed the scar across the bridge of his nose.  “They need you.  You need to wake up.”  Her face became serious, and she reached down and took his right hand.  “I’m sorry for this.”

   “Sorry?  Sorry for what?”

   “ _Wake up_!”

   Shiro jolted awake.  He was lying facedown in a pile of stone and rubble, his right arm stretched out in front of him.  It was glowing, and not the neon purple he would have expected.  His right hand seemed unaffected, but a green shimmer peeked between the plates of the prosthetic.

   He raised his arm and looked at it for a moment, and then narrowed his eyes.  Pidge had done something like this before, had hacked into the Galra technology and activated memories best left untouched.  That fight had ended in him being completely at the mercy of a fourteen-year-old girl.

   “I know you’re there,” he said, wary of whatever it was.  “I can tell when someone has hacked into my arm.”

   The green light pulsed in recognition, then flared and circled his arm… almost _happily_ , Shiro thought.

   No, it couldn’t be.  Could it?

   “Filomena?”

   The lights shimmied back up his arm and disappeared.

   “I-I’m here,” her voice stammered.  Why did she sound tired, all of a sudden?

   “What did you just do?” he asked.

   There was a second of silence as she tried to find words for what had just occurred.  “I… I came to help you.”

   That was when the light appeared around the bend in the tunnel ahead of him, and Shiro looked up.  A figure in a sleek suit was picking its way over the rocks toward him, its headlamp bobbing with each movement.  A few feet later, Shiro’s own headlamp made out the colors in its uniform.  White, pink, black, and purple.

   Shiro inhaled sharply, even though it hurt to do so.  “No!” he shouted.  “I _told_ you to stay aboard the ship!” he yelled.

   “You told me no such thing,” came the retort.

   That wasn’t Filomena’s voice.  “Allura?” Shiro asked.

   “Sorry to disappoint,” she said, although she didn’t sound sorry at all.

   Shiro smirked.  “That would be relief, not disappointment,” he corrected.  “For a few ticks, I thought you were her.”

   The princess harrumphed.  “We had a few words before I left.”

   “Before she handcuffed me to a wall,” Filomena broke in dryly.

   Shiro managed a breathless chuckle at her expense.  “You can tell me both sides of the story when I get back,” he said.  “I hope you’ll trust me when I say I respect you all the more for staying.”

   Filomena harrumphed in his ear.

   Shiro put all his strength into helping Allura move the rocks from off his body, but it was still difficult.  His back was bruised and sore, and his legs were sluggish.

   “What happened?” he asked.  “Did I pass out?”  He stretched gently.

   “One of those boulders must have pressed a little too hard on your back,” said Filomena.  “People die like that.”

   “Let me guess; your father taught you that.”

   “Actually, my mom was hooked on that old show, ’Law and Order.’  I picked it up from watching that all the time.”

   Shiro laughed.  “A woman after my own heart.”

   She was quiet for a few ticks after that, and Shiro could sense that she wasn’t in a playful mood.  He felt his smile crumble as it dawned on him.  Then she said five words that made his chest ache.  Or maybe it wasn’t the words so much as the quiet disappointment in her tone.  “You could have told me.”

   He sighed.  He knew what she meant.  He could have let her know that something was wrong.  “I know.”


	56. “I’d Come for You” - Nickleback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk and Keith dash off to rescue Pidge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judge me for my song choices after you've read the chapter.

   Hunk and Keith made it out of the cell block and into the shadows before the alarm stopped.

   Keith looked up.  “Something tells me that’s a bad sign,” he murmured.  He checked his map.  “Okay,” he said softly.  “Come on.”  He leaped from his hiding place, with Hunk on his heels.  

   There were still a group of aliens trying to control the fire that had expanded across the courtyard.  Hunk’s part in the distraction was playing out perfectly.  And, though they hadn’t really expected it, Shiro’s addition to the chaos was giving them the upper hand.

   Keith launched himself over a broken piece of wall and into the next building.  It seemed every part of the fortress had been somehow touched by their attack; the explosion had blown out part of the wall and scattered bodies of injured slavers across the junction of the exposed corridors.  Not only had they been left to suffer, but they were beginning to wail and howl, each melody more horrible than the last.  Some were scratching their eyes, one was clawing at his throat, and yet another wretched beast was trying to dig his hands into his own mouth, perhaps in an attempt to keep his airways from closing.

   Keith made a noise of awestruck terror and took a step backward, where he bumped into Hunk.  He spun and glanced up at his friend, who looked like he was about to be sick.

   He carefully steeled himself, and then took Hunk by both arms.  “We can’t stop now,” he said, though his voice was broken and uncertain.  “Don’t look at it.  Don’t think about it.  We have to get to Pidge.”

   Hunk’s face became steady again, and he and Keith ran on through the halls of the old monastery, trying with all their might to ignore the suffering around them.

   Hunk kept a careful eye on the map as they sped along, and pulled Keith to a halt before they rounded the last corner before they reached the infirmary.  “We’ve got company up ahead,” he whispered.

   Keith studied him, and then peeked carefully around the corner.  There were five of them, all in suits and breathing masks, and they were taking turns trying to open the door.  It seemed like they were making progress, too.  A gap had started to appear between the two doors.  It was maybe an inch or two across, but that was plenty to be worried about.

   The red paladin watched them for only a moment before he slinked out of hiding.

   Hunk couldn’t count the number of strikes Keith made; he wasn’t as great in hand-to-hand combat, so Keith’s stamina and speed stunned him.  He arched an eyebrow as the last guard fell to the floor.  “You’re left-handed?” he asked.

   “I’m ambidextrous.”

   “Was that only _three_ strikes?”

   Keith looked confused.  “Of course not.  How could I take out five guys with only three strikes?”

   “It’ll take me too long to answer that.”  He sidled up beside Keith and raised his cannon.  “Here we go.”  He fired a single round into the door.

   It exploded in, and Keith leaped in, almost on top of the demolished door.  From inside, he could hear soft crying; the sound of an infant.  And then, inexplicably, choked, ragged singing.

   “‘Egg in the nest and…

   The nest… on the branch… and

   The branch…’”  The voice coughed wetly and went on.  “‘On the… on the tree…’”

   “Pidge!” Keith cried.  He and Hunk rushed over to the far corner of the room.

   The coarse voice stopped singing.  “H-hello?”

   Hunk’s gaze landed on a misshapen mound of blankets next to an overturned bookcase.  “There!” he barked, pointing.

   Keith spun, ran the four steps to the pile, and flung away the damp sheet.

   The girl was leaned against a lanky, bald alien, and was cradling a tiny figure capped by her green and white helmet.  She raised her head and turned to face the voices of her friends, and the two young men each let out a gasp.  Pidge’s mouth and nose were spared from the gas by a breathing mask, but her eyes were red and puffy, and circled by inflamed scratches.

   The alien shifted closer to Pidge, wrapping her one skinny arm protectively around them both.  The girl drew her shoulders up and clutched the baby closer, so that he was sheltered between their two bodies.

   “Pidge?” Keith asked softly.

   She seemed to relax.  “K-Keith?”  She rocked forward onto her knees, driving her head eagerly into his breastplate and almost knocking him over.

   Keith hugged her with one arm.  “We came as fast as we could.”

   The girl was crying under her breath, her tears choking her further and making her cough.  “It was b-bad, Keith,” she sobbed.  “It hurt… it hurts so much, but I didn’t scream… I didn’t scream, I swear…”

   The words drove a spike of pain into Keith’s chest.  He passed a comforting hand over her hair, and pushed her backward.  “We’re here now, and I’ve got something that’ll help.”  He turned on his com.  “Miela, we’ve got Pidge and Matik.  How am I supposed to use the naiad eye?”

   Her voice came back over the com.  “Break it open.”

   Keith stood up, took the sphere in both hands, and slammed it into the floor with all his strength.  It cracked on the bottom, like an egg.  Keith stooped, rolled it over, and attempted to pry the shell apart, but it was too strong.

   “Keith, use your sword,” Hunk suggested.

   The red paladin pulled his weapon and aimed a strike right down the center, and the sphere fell in halves.  “Okay, it’s open.”

   “The usable flesh should be that deep burgundy color.”

   Keith looked.  To his dismay, most of what he could see was a dry pink.  “Oh, no…”  He reached into the center of the eye.  The pink stuff was light and sandy in texture.  He dusted the stuff away in search of the juicy red flesh Miela had mentioned.  Just when he thought he might’ve brought this stupid thing along for nothing, his hand brushed across something that sucked at his fingertips like mud.  He sighed with relief.  “I found it.  What am I supposed to do?  I can’t take off their masks.”

   “You shouldn’t have to,” said Miela.  “Their injuries are external.”

   The light bulb above Keith’s head came on.  “And mine… mine were _internal_.”  He quickly dug his fingers into the wine-colored stuff and scooted over to Pidge, and took the girl’s chin in his left hand.

   “W-what are you doing?” she asked.

   “Be real still for me,” said Keith.  “It’s medicine.”  And with that, he began to smear the stuff on her exposed skin.

   Hunk watched in confusion.  “Keith, what is that stuff?”

   “Some kind of anti-inflammatory,” he answered.  “Can you put some on Matik’s eyes?”

   “I’m on it.”

   Pidge shifted uncomfortably in Keith’s hand.  “’S cold,” she whimpered.  “And it tingles.”  She lowered her head and furrowed her brows, the only indicator of emotion Keith could decipher.  “You’d better hope this stuff works, Keith.”

   The red paladin laughed under his breath and layered the medicine thickly over her eyelids.  “Oh, it works.  Miela used it on me when we came to Aepsis the first time.”

   “Oh, yeah!” said Hunk, looking up briefly from his task.  “You never actually told us what happened.”

   “I broke a couple ribs in the descent,” said Keith.  “Miela had me eat one of those things, and it… _healed_ me, somehow.”

   “You _ate_ it?” Hunk asked.  “They’re edible?”

   Keith helped Pidge to her feet.  “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.  They taste fine, but it knocked me out for about twenty minutes.”

   “That explains a couple things.”  Hunk picked Matik up off the floor.

   The alien sighed.  “She always was a quick learner.”

   Allura’s voice came on over their coms.  “I’ve got Shiro,” she informed them.  “Let’s get back to the plan.”

   Pidge turned her head in Keith’s direction.  “What’s going on?” she asked.

   Keith looked over at the yellow paladin.  “Hunk, take Matik and the baby and go find Lance.  Pidge and I need to meet up with Shiro and finish this up.”

   “Shiro’s okay?” Pidge asked.

   Keith glanced at her.  “He’s fine.  Allura dug him out.”

   She sighed.  “This is what I get for taking off my helmet; I miss out on stuff.”

   The red paladin snorted and took her arm.  “If that’s all you were worried about, then Allura and Shiro are going to have a fit when you get back.”

   “I regret nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, you may judge me now.


	57. “The Beauty of the Rain” - Dar Williams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith trades partners, but Pidge needs help coping with her relatively new disability

   Keith let Pidge carry the baby back down the hall from whence they had come, until they reached the hole in the side of the building.   He looked up when he heard noise from ahead of them.  Through the hole in the wall, it was soft and clear and almost musical; the soothing, redeeming sound of rain.

   “Is that what I think it is?” Pidge asked.

   Keith looked down and smirked at her.  “Yep.”

   “Can you lead me out into it?”

   “Yeah,” he said.  “Give the baby to Hunk.”  

   Pidge tightened her grip on the little boy.  “I… I can’t.”

   “The kid will catch a cold if you take him out in the rain,” said Keith.

   “Keith’s right,” Hunk affirmed.  “You know I’ll take care of him.”

   Pidge turned to face Hunk’s voice, but stepped backward.  “It’s not that.  It’s…”  She stopped and lowered her head as she realized she couldn’t rationalize her reason for wanting to hold Cesare.  She knew that, ultimately, it would be best for Hunk to take the child, but for a few moments after they left the infirmary, she clung to him like he was her only responsibility in the universe.

   No, Keith thought, maybe that wasn’t right.  Maybe she just needed something to hold onto.  Was that really so childish?  After all she’d been through, a teddy bear wasn’t the worst form of therapy there was.

   Keith sighed and touched her shoulder.  “Come on,” he said softly.  “You can hang on to me.”

   She raised her head toward his voice.  “Are… are you sure?”

   “Yeah.”

   Pidge reluctantly followed his guiding push toward Hunk, but didn’t resist as she felt the yellow paladin gently lift Cesare out of her arms.  “I won’t take my eyes off him,” Hunk reassured her.

   The green paladin looked shaken for a moment, until she felt a lean arm wrap around her.

   “I’m right here,” said Keith.  “Let’s go.”

   He led her gingerly around the rubble, their arms around each other’s backs, her fingertips clenched around the fabric on his side.  It was then that Keith noticed that his ribs were still bruised, but he refused to reveal that it might actually still hurt a little.

   There was no thunder, no flashes of lightning; only big, heavy drops that came down in sheets on top of them.

   Pidge raised her face and made a little noise that Keith had trouble deciphering at first.  He glanced down at her, and she did it again, a little louder, relaxing her shoulders.  That one sound defined “relief.”  The red jelly he had smeared across her eyes seemed to thicken with the moisture in the air, covering the scratches around her eyes and hiding the inflammation.

   “Better?” Keith asked.

   Pidge swept her wet hair out of her face.  “A little bit, yeah.”  She smiled behind her mask.  “Lance was right.  I didn’t even know I missed the rain until just now.”

   “You hear that, Lance?” Keith asked.

   “No, what?”

   “Pidge said you were right about something.”

   “Oh, this I’ve got to hear.  What was I right about?”

   “Rain.  She says she missed it.”

   Lance chuckled.  “I wish I could enjoy it like she is.  Sans helmet.”

   Miela’s voice drifted over their coms.  “The gas is water-soluble.  With the rain, the air should be breathable in a dobosh or so.”

   “Did you hear that, Shiro?” Hunk asked.  “We’ve got Pidge.  She’s okay.”

   “Do I want to know what happened to her helmet?” Shiro grumbled.

   There was a smile on Hunk’s voice.  “You’d be proud of her, Shiro.  She put it on the baby.”

   “How is she doing?” he asked.

   “She’s fine,” said Keith.  “We’re on our way to the security office.”

   “Already?” the girl whined, though she didn’t resist his directional pull.  “I wanted to play in the rain some more.”

   “Lance is already jealous,” Keith said, a laugh under his voice.  “Maybe if we’re lucky, it’ll still be raining when we get out.”

   “I’m still going to wish I had my helmet,” she mumbled as he led her back into the building.

   “How are your eyes?” Keith asked.

   “Better,” she said.  “They still itch like crazy, but I can feel the swelling going down.”

   “Can you open them?”

   “Not yet, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

   Keith glanced at her.  “Why’s that?”

   “I’ve still got my ears.”  She turned her head this way and that.  “Hunk, you still around?”

   “Not for long,” said his voice.  “Matik and I have a date to meet Lance on the other side of the compound.”

   “Sounds romantic,” Matik mumbled.  “Can we please get on with it?”

   Hunk gave Keith and Pidge a nod.  “Good luck, guys.”  Then, with Cesare in one arm and Matik in the other, Hunk made a break across the corner of the courtyard, back toward the cells.

   Miela’s voice cut in over the sound of the rain.  “If they weren’t onto you before, they are now,” she said.  “The forces in the courtyard are scattering.”

   Keith pulled Pidge back through the building.  “Time to go.”

   “The control room is guarded,” said Miela, “and you’ve got incoming.”

   “Who’s the head security officer?” Keith asked.

   “Raxxan.  He’s a Dæmilla; small, red-skinned, with horns.  I hardly ever saw him when I was down there, but… He was the one who kept… _everyone else_ in line.”

   “What does that mean?” Keith asked.

   She sighed and checked to make sure his was the only com line open.  “Raxxan kept one of the trainers from killing me.  Maybe it was just in the name of good business practice, but he kept me alive.”

   “Don’t tell me I should thank him,” Keith mumbled.  “He’s running a slave trade.”

   “Oh, I never said that,” she said in an agreeing tone.  “What I mean is that he doesn’t like fighting.  First and foremost, he’s a businessman.  If it comes down to you and him, he’ll fold.”

   Keith pulled Pidge around a corner and out of sight as he heard footsteps approaching.  Two guards in breathing suits came running past without looking, and when they had gone, Keith spoke up.  “So, what do I need to be worried about?” he asked.

   “The trainer who almost killed me.  He’s Raxxan’s doberman.”

   “There’s something you’re not telling me, Miela,” the red paladin growled.

   She sighed into the com.  “He’s _Galra_ ,” she finally said.

   Keith felt the muscles in his back tense.  “You mean…”

   “Yes, _that_ Galra.”

   “Oh, quiznak.”  Keith bumped the heel of his hand repeatedly against his helmet.  “I’ve got Pidge with me, and she’s basically flying blind.  We’re not in any position to take down the Galra who beat _you_ in a fight!”

   Pidge looked up.  “We’re doing _what_ , now?  No, we are not!”

   “If you didn’t hear that, Pidge is agreeing with me,” said Keith.

   “I heard her.”  She sighed.  “If you go now, you’ll only have the one guard to contend with, but there’s nobody inside security control.”

   Keith sighed and glanced around the corner.  “Quiznak,” he hissed again.  “Stay here for a tick.”

   “What?” the girl asked.  “You’re just gonna leave me here?”

   “Do you have a better idea?”

   “Actually, yeah.”  She took out her bayard.  “I’ve still got my weapon.  I just need you to aim it.”

   Keith thought for a moment, and then nodded and positioned her on her knees, facing away from him.  “Okay.  Aim where?”

   “Preferably his ankles.”

   “Okay.”  He took her right wrist in his right hand and pressed himself as close as he could against her back.  “Ready?”

   “Whenever.”

   Keith pushed Pidge out of cover, swinging their arms around the corner to point her bayard in the direction of the solitary guard.  “Fire,” Keith said softly.

   Pidge fired the bayard, and the grappling cord spun away from them, down the corridor.  Right before it reached the guard, it whirled around, trapping his feet and ankles.

   The guard gave a yelp and lost his balance, and Pidge chose that moment to send a jolt of electricity down the wire.  Her victim screeched once, and hit the ground, unconscious.

   “Great job, Pidge,” said Keith.  He directed her down the hall, and together they pulled the subdued guard into the room he had been guarding.

   “Well, that should buy us a little time,” Pidge said as she closed the door behind them.

   Keith finished placing a set of wrist cuffs on the guard.  “Tell me what you need to do here.”

   “Where’s the console?” she asked.

   Keith directed her over in front of the screens.  

   Pidge produced her set of earphones and quickly put them on, and then got to work.  “Tell Miela I’m sending her the system data.”

   Keith dutifully relayed the information.

   “I got it,” said Miela.  “And just in time, too.  We’re getting reports of a ship entering the atmosphere.  And…”  She paused for just a moment.  “I’ve updated your maps.”

   Keith pulled up his map and examined new wing that had appeared directly on top of the compound.  “What the quiznak?” Keith asked.  “According to this, the shipments come in directly through the roof of the cavern!”


	58. “Sabotage” - Beastie Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge figures things out, and the game is afoot!

   Miela’s voice came back on over Keith’s com.  “You need to get out of there,” she said.  “The sentries are coming back, and Raxxan will be with them.”

   Keith pulled Pidge out of the room and shut the door behind them.  “I’m more worried about his lap dog,” he said.

   “What, the Galra dude you were talking about?” Pidge asked.  “I don’t know.  The boss man’s going to be pretty mad when he finds out I’ve diverted all his earnings.”

   Keith let out a growl.  “Miela, Pidge has just informed me that she has _emptied_ Raxxan’s accounts, Robin Hood style.”

   The woman sighed.  “It wasn’t part of the plan, but we can use it.  Until then, I suggest you start worrying.  When the warden finds out what has been done here, he’ll be sending his right hand to retrieve his assets; that is, if he hasn’t already.  And Hayze is nothing if not thorough.”

   It was the first time she had said the name, and Keith couldn’t help but hear malice in her tone.  “Hayze?” Keith asked.

   “I know that name,” said Pidge.  “Matik told me a little about him.  He’s the local Galra.  The only one, so far as she knows.”  She raised her head a little, and her steps faltered, tripping Keith and making him stumble.  “Wait…”

   “Wait what?” Keith asked.  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

   She turned her head to face him, and made an attempt to open her left eye at him.  A sliver of her honey-colored iris winked at him, and Keith could already see the gears turning in her head.  “Cesare is half-Galra, isn’t he?”

   Keith sighed.  “I shouldn’t be surprised that you figured it out.”

   “I’ll also hazard the guess that wasn’t a happy union.”

   “How’d you guess?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

   “Matik said Hayze came into the infirmary with some pretty heavy damage after Miela escaped.”

   Keith harrumphed.  “She’s one tough chick.”

   Miela tuned back into the conversation.  “When you two are done gossiping about me, you need to get moving.  You need to rendezvous with Shiro and Allura to take the landing party.”

   “You think they’re still going to try to land?” Keith asked.

   “Pretty sure.”  Keith heard her inhale, and then she barked a little too loudly in his ear.  “Right!  Turn right!”

   Keith pushed Pidge to the right, into a corridor stacked with shipping crates.  “Get down!” he hissed.  He pulled her down, into the shadow of one pile of boxes.

   Two sets of footsteps converged on the crossroads.  One set belonged a biped with a long gait, while the other was a slow, uneven thumping.  The sound stopped, and one of them inhaled a deep, pensive breath.

   “They’ve been here.”  His voice was a soft, clipped purr.

   There was a rasp, and then another, more gravelly voice spoke up.  “Are you sure?”  

   “I would not have said so otherwise.”  The first sniffed the air again, and then made a thoughtful hum in his throat.  “It smells of _her_ , Raxxan.”

   Raxxan snorted.  “She could not have caused this much damage by herself.”

   “You continue to defend the mongrel?” the first voice asked, though the words themselves had no dissent in them.

   “I defend my _assets_ , to a point,” Raxxan corrected him.  “And she became a liability the moment she left the compound.  But _one female_ , half your size?  Her abilities are far more limited than you give her credit, Hayze.”  He harrumphed.  “Whoever or whatever is causing this chaos, I want it found and stopped before the shipment lands.  As for Honey, if she is involved…”  He paused a moment.  “What you do with her is your prerogative.  I’m well aware you have a bone or two to pick with her.”  Then his thumping, irregular footsteps wandered away, back down the hall toward the security office.

   Pidge and Keith sat squashed together in the shadows, waiting for the sound of fading footsteps.  Hayze turned full circle, the soles of his boots scuffing against the floor.  Then he sniffed the air again.

   It hit Pidge then that in order to be able to smell anything, Hayze could not be wearing a mask.  The air was breathable.  She reached behind her head and undid the clasp, and set her respirator on the floor a couple feet away.

   Keith looked at her in shock, but didn’t say anything.  She seemed to be breathing okay, so he just watched as the girl curled back into him, uncomfortably close, and turned on her cloaking device.  Neither of them dared to move as a lanky arm reached out from over their heads and scooped up the breathing mask in one claw-tipped hand.

   Then Pidge hit a button on her gauntlet, and the sound of running feet sounded down the corridor.

   Hayze let out a shout, and then there was the sound of him scrambling after what was, no doubt, one of Pidge’s custom holograms.

   Keith let out a sigh.  “Too close, Pidge.”

   “Yeah, well, I’m sorry.  I didn’t have much to work with.”  She pushed herself away from him, still kneeling.  “What are we going to do now?  I just sent him running in the direction _we’re_ supposed to be going.”

   Keith pulled up his map.  “Shiro, where are you?”

   “Allura just dug me out.  I’m still in the rift,” he answered.  “Where are you?”

   Keith snorted.  “Trying to avoid the Galra guard dog on our way to the point.”

   Beneath the monastery, hidden in a cave that had grown too small for his comfort, Shiro wearily pressed a hand to his helmet.  “Oh no,” he groaned.

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Filomena’s voice broke in.  “Takashi, you and Allura have an alternate route.  It might take a little longer, but…”

   Shiro shook his head.  “No, we won’t have time for that.  Allura and I can excavate the cave-in and get in that way.”

   “Raxxan’s forces are hovering around that rift,” Filomena said curtly.  “You need another way in.”

   Shiro sighed and brought up his map.  It took a moment to adjust to the additions Pidge had made.  “Is this right?” he asked.  “Shipments come in from directly above the monastery?”

   “That’s Pidge’s data, not mine.  So yes, it’s accurate.”

   The black paladin hummed thoughtfully.  “Is there an angle where I could potentially drop down on top of the incoming ship?”

   “Maybe,” Filomena said hesitantly.  “The map being what it is, the only landing site is dead center of the courtyard.  You’d have to be up several hundred feet.”

   “Is that supposed to scare me?” Shiro asked with a chuckle.

   “You’d be skylining yourself on purpose.  I felt the need to warn you of that.”

   Shiro harrumphed.  “I’ll be painting them a target.  Duly noted.”  He got up off the rocky earth and began backtracking, using his map and a few indicator points Filomena had placed.

   “With any luck, it will only be for a moment,” she said.  “Once you take the ship, all you have to do is let Keith and Pidge in.  The thing is, getting in without getting caught is going to be the hard part.”

   “Wait,” said Allura.  Shiro stopped and turned to look at her.  “The head guard; he’s probably looking for _you_ , Filomena.  Am I right?”

   She sighed.  “Probably.”

   Allura smirked.  “Ever notice how similar our figures are?” she asked.

   “I’m wearing your clothes,” came the dry reply.

   “Well then, how about we send him and his cronies on a bit of a shadow-chase?” she asked.  She looked at Shiro.

   The black paladin shrugged.  “Are you suggesting I try and stop you?” he asked. 

   “Believe me, I’ve given up trying,” Filomena grumbled.

   Allura lifted her chin and gave a sniff.  “I had hoped you would say that.”  She pulled up her map.  “Where is he?”

   “According to the BLIP mod, he’s headed back toward the infirmary,” Filomena answered.  Along with her answer, she highlighted a single red sigil in yellow brackets.

   “How long will it take to get to the skyline?” the princess asked.

   “About four doboshes, with your jet packs.”

   “I’m on it.”  Allura looked up at Shiro and gave him a little smirk.  “You go on ahead.  I’ll see you when this is over.”

   The black paladin nodded at her.  “Be careful.”

   “I’m always careful.”  

   Allura climbed to the top of the rockslide and began picking away at the rocks nearest the top.  She was small enough that it might be possible to squeeze through a crack, if she didn’t worsen the cave-in.  Being quiet wasn’t an issue; not yet, anyway.  Through the rubble, she could hear muffled shouting as the slavers worked to put the courtyard back into order for the landing.  She smirked.  Shiro’s distraction was still going strong, in spite of it not being part of the initial plan.

   In another dobosh, she was able to clear away enough of the rubble in her path to wiggle through, into the light of the big room.  She grumbled to herself that she was covered in enough dirt to qualify as camouflage, and opened her com.

   “Keith, are you there?”

   “Still here,” he answered.

   “How long do you think you can wait unseen?”

   Keith posed the question to someone nearby, supposedly Pidge, and came back with an answer.  “Another forty ticks, maybe.”

   “All right.”  Allura raised her head up, out of the rift, and ducked back down again.  The guards were hard at work.  If she timed it right, she could make a break for any of the nearby buildings without notice.  There was no hard-and-fast rule that she had to be stealthy, but she didn’t want to be apprehended, either.

   When she finally made her move, it was sheer luck that she wasn’t spotted.  Everyone was too busy fighting the flames, their eyes blind from staring into the heat.  That was just as well.  Allura scurried into the shadows of one of the buildings across the courtyard.  All she had to do was find a way to get one person’s attention, and then she could easily lure him away.  Or, so she hoped.  She picked her way across the open space, to the collapsed section of building where Keith and Hunk had made their entrances.  She hummed.  It was too easy, wasn’t it?

   She gingerly stepped over the rubble and into the halls of the destroyed building, and looked down on the horrors of what the gas had done to the four unprotected guards.  Allura inhaled and knelt before the first one, who was groaning and wheezing, and had its hands pressed to its eyes.

   At the sound, the alien removed its hands from its swollen eyes.  “W-who’s’ere?” the creature lisped.  “Ha-halp me.”

   Allura was silent for a moment before she stood upright again.  There was nothing she could do, even if she had desired it.  She impatiently checked her map.  The sigil Miela had marked was moving faithfully toward her.

   She needed him to see her.  Just a glimpse.  She waited there until she heard footsteps, and then counted three ticks…

   He stepped into her field of vision.  For a Galra male, he was of average height and build; towering, at least a foot taller than Shiro, lean and lanky, with limbs that were slightly too long.  From here, she couldn’t see his face, but his hair was cropped short, like Lance’s, and the dark shade of purple common in his species.

   Allura turned and sprang back through the hole in the wall.

   That was enough to catch his eye.  “Hey!”

   The princess darted across the corner of the courtyard and into the shadow of the open-air cells.  “I’ve got his attention,” Allura said into her com.  “Keith, Shiro, get moving!”

   Keith pulled Pidge to her feet and dragged her along until she found his pace and fell into step.

   “I take it he’s not going to catch us?” Pidge asked.

   “Allura’s decided to be bait,” Keith said.

   “Glad it’s her and not me.”

   Keith laughed under his breath.  “She’s probably the best-equipped to handle Hayze, anyway.”

   Coran’s voice broke in over the gentle sound of the rain.  “I’ve got a reading on the incoming craft,” he said.  “It’s smaller than your average cargo vessel, and looks like it’s been repurposed several times during its lifetime.  There are additions and revisions to the original design.”

   “Anything I should be worried about?” Shiro asked.

   “Erm… no, I shouldn’t think so.  As long as you can find the emergency exit on the aft of the ship, you should be able to board without causing damage.”

   “Does that really matter?” Keith asked.

   “It could,” said Miela.  “If things go our way, we can use that ship to evacuate the prisoners.”

   “Right,” Keith sighed.  “Don’t blow up the ship.  Got it.”

   “I wasn’t planning to blow up the ship,” Shiro said.

   “You weren’t planning on blowing up the kitchens, either,” Miela retorted.

   “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” 

   “I won’t be the only one holding that over you.”

   Shiro smirked.  At last, the smile had returned to her tone.  “You can lecture me later,” he chided gently.  “I know I deserve it, but save it for when we’re not… you know, _busy_.”

   “Fine.”


	59. “Radioactive” -  Imagine Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura meets her match, Shiro takes the incoming ship, and Pidge and Keith make an interesting partnership

   Leading Hayze on a wild goose chase was one of the more difficult things Allura had done.  Galra fighters were agile beings, and keeping him out of arm’s reach would take every effort.  Allura weaved between the buildings, carefully keeping him on the edge of her senses.  Make noise here.  Be silent there.  Mislead, misstep, a careful dance of predator and prey, though Allura never quite knew which part was hers.  Miela had warned her that Hayze was a competent guard, and that meant distracting him would involve more than just disappearing from the corner of his eye.  If he noticed something of more importance, he might abandon the chase altogether.  And she needed to keep him interested.

   She turned a corner and came face to face with three guards.  They all startled backward, away from one another, and then Allura was hit with an idea.  Might as well cause a little chaos, she reasoned.

   She took them apart, piece by piece, playing against their disorganized training and the confusion going on in the compound.  It was an easy distraction tactic, but it cost her time.  As she struck the last man down, she was barely able to evade Hayze grabbing at her.

   She spun to look at her attacker, and was able to define his face for the first time.  He was young, and good-looking, even by her standards, with fine, high-boned features, a straight nose, and a slender, even mouth.  His facial fur was separated into thick, symmetrical stripes of slightly differing shades of purple, giving him the characteristic feline look of his race.  But one aspect of his looks stood out to her: his right ear was cocked down and angled backward, in a way that almost certainly wasn’t natural.  Was it broken?

   Allura sprang out of his reach and scrambled to put distance between them.  Where was she now?  There was no time to look at her map.

   “Filomena, where am I?” she asked breathlessly.

   “You’re leading him in circles,” she said.  “You need to break your pattern before he figures it out.”

   “The only way out is _up_!” she snapped.

   “Then go up,” Miela suggested.

   Allura let out a tired growl and swung herself up onto the roof of the nearest building.  She could hear him breathing behind her; that meant he was too close.  But he couldn’t grab her.  Not yet.

   Even out of reach  of his claws, his voice caught up with her.  “Filomena!”

   It took almost a full dobosh for her to realize what he had called her.  If Miela was a slave, shouldn’t he have treated her as if she didn’t have a name?  She pushed the thought from her head.  It didn’t matter.  They could sort out this whole drama as a team once they were back aboard the ship.  Anything else would just have to wait.

   A loud mechanical noise from above caught her attention, and Allura looked up.  Light was filtering in through the mists, shining down in prismatic colors through the raindrops.  Somewhere far above, a door was opening.  “Shiro!  The ship is landing!”  Just as she said it, she caught sight of a figure moving in her periphery, and she looked down.  

   Hayze had followed her onto the roof, but he too had paused to look up, into the light-dappled mists of the Big Cavern.  His mouth opened slightly in dismay, and then he turned a sneer at Allura.

   “I’m almost to the point,” Shiro’s voice replied.  “Just keep him busy a little while longer.”

   “You just worry about your part of the plan,” Allura snapped.  

   She saw motion from the corner of her eye, and she ducked to avoid the edge of a jagged black blade.  She yelped and dove out of reach, and summoned her staff to protect herself.  She countered a blow and spun far enough away that his swing wouldn’t reach her.  Allura turned and sprinted for the eaves, launching herself onto the roof of the next building over.  She didn’t have to fight Hayze; she just had to keep him occupied for a little longer.  Already, she could hear the roar of the descending craft.  

   “Shiro, you’d better be ready!” Allura barked.  “I can’t fool him forever.”

   The black paladin followed the ship with his eyes as it descended into the cavern.  “I’ve got a visual.  Keith?  Pidge?”

   The red paladin’s voice answered.  “We’re at the point.  Meet you on board.”

   Shiro watched the ship fall through the mists, pulling the clouds down with it, engines glowing like heat lightning through the haze.  He backed as far as he could, and took the ledge at a run.  

   For the first time since landing on Aepsis, light hit Shiro from above.  The two suns shone down across his back, creating a visible shadow underneath him and rendering him plainly visible to anyone below.  The exposure lasted a mere fraction of a tick, but it felt like an eternity.

   Halfway into the arc of his jump, he activated his jet packs, which thrusted him into the cloud bank and landed him hard on the port side wing.  He rolled twice until he hit the body of the ship, which was where he had wanted to be in the first place.  He crawled carefully along the fuselage until his fingers fell comfortably into a small dip in the metal.  It was an old-fashioned handle.  He grasped it, but waited until he felt the ship’s landing gear touch the ground before he pulled.

   It opened effortlessly, and Shiro swung himself down into the cargo bay.

   “Seriously?” he mumbled.  “Filomena, it’s a wonder you didn’t break out sooner than you did!” Shiro growled.

   “I broke out several times,” she corrected him.  He made an amused noise, and Filomena turned her attention to her other screens.  “Keith, he’s inside the ship.”

   Keith made a noise of understanding and gently grasped the green paladin’s arm.  “Pidge, do you trust me?”

   “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be letting you lead me around like a seeing-eye dog.”

   “I hope you’ll keep that in mind,” Keith mumbled.  “Stand up.”

   Pidge stood, and Keith wrapped his right arm around her back, and took her right wrist in his left hand.

   “If this is what I think it is, this should be fun,” the green paladin mumbled.

   “You said you trusted me,” Keith reminded her.  “Get out your bayard and shield.”

   She obeyed, the energy shield popping up across Keith’s back.  “Do I get to know what we’re dancing?” she asked.

   “Probably best if you just follow me.”  Keith activated his shield on his right wrist, protecting her back.  “Just fire when I spin you.”

   “Every time?”

   “Yep.”

   He led them, left foot first, into the chaos of the courtyard and under the belly of the grounded ship.  It took a moment for the slavers to notice them, so the red paladin pushed them hard and fast toward the center of the space.  The closer they could get to the ship’s entrance, the easier it would be to board.  At the same time, that meant the two of them would be completely surrounded.  

   Keith swung her around, exposing her back to the small crowd in the courtyard.  Pidge matched him step for step, faithfully following his directional pushes, turns and tugs.  She fell into Keith’s strange rhythm, her blindness forcing her to notice every shift in his frame; the tilt of his shoulders, the angle of his chest, and the distance between them, all enforced by the push of one arm, the pull of the other.

   The first time he spun her, it was jerky and slightly out-of-synch.  She moved just a half-beat too fast, in a hurry to return to the small square of protection under his shield.  She fired her bayard, and it whipped around her in a circle, forcing Keith to duck the flying object as it flew past.  He let out a growl, and Pidge made a sound in her throat, and that was all the apology there was time for before he took her back into closed position, and their dance went on.

   She felt him turn, passing her hand over the middle of his back.  She could feel the sinews flex as he lashed out with his right hand, the slight pulses of tension whenever his blade met with something more resistant than flesh.  For the briefest of instants, she was glad she was blind and didn’t have to see the damage their blades left behind.  

   But in the next instant, she realized that she had never known him quite like this.  She could feel the mechanics of his body, muscles and joints torquing just so, the strength of his right side over his left, the use of force specific to his hands and no one else’s.  It was an intimate thought, one she would never voice; for one moment, she understood Keith in a way no one else did.  And he was vast; not incomprehensible, but learning everything that was Keith would take time.  What she wasn’t sure about was whether she really wanted to know everything, or whether it was just better to remain ignorant.

   The second time he spun her, it was easier, more fluid.  She let out her bayard and retracted it much more evenly, and fell into him with a greater trust.  Was this what flying blind was supposed to feel like?  Learn to trust in someone or something outside your control?  Only Shiro had been able to do that, when Coran had tested them that first time.  Now she was beginning to feel along the edges of that lesson; she hadn’t quite absorbed it, but she could sense the shape and purpose of it.

   Keith folded her back into position, and she heard his voice, amused and thoughtful, in laughing words that made her shine from inside out.  “You’re good at this.”

   Pidge smirked.  “Thanks.”

   Keith was slowing down.  That must mean that the enemy’s numbers were thinning.  He wouldn’t slow down otherwise.  That was something she already knew; that Keith would push himself far beyond his limits just to outlive his opposition.  “Anytime now, Shiro,” Keith growled impatiently.

   And just like that, the hatch opened.  The black paladin peered down at them.  “You rang?” he asked.

   Keith looked up at him.  “What are you, Lance?” he grumbled.  He reached up and grabbed hold of Shiro’s hand, and the older man pulled him into the ship.

   “All right, switch!” Shiro said.  He jumped down out of the hatch and grabbed Pidge by the waist.  The girl gasped and grabbed his wrists in protest.  “You and I are going to have a serious talk later, young lady,” he said, and lifted her up so Keith could grab onto her and pull her into the ship.  But before Keith closed the hatch, he called up to her.  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

   Pidge opened her eyes as much as she could and looked down to see relief in his face.  She smirked.  “You too.”

   Keith shut the hatch and pulled Pidge to her feet.  “Ready to get to work?” he asked.

   “I thought you’d never ask.”

   Shiro had disarmed the crew and left them cuffed in the aisles.  Pidge looked around once before shutting her eyes again.  “I’ll never know how he does all that by himself.”

   Keith harrumphed.  “You should ask him sometime.  It’s a really good story.”

   “Why?  Is my kung fu inferior?” she asked.  “‘Cause once I ask him, he’s gonna try to teach me his technique.”

   The red paladin snorted.  “In his defense, it never gets old.”

   “Spend a day inside my head, and you’ll see that it does.”

   “That’ll be the day when Allura finally falls for Lance.”  He directed her into the pilot’s seat.

   “Oh, good.  We’re on the same page.”  She put her earpieces back on and began expertly hacking the system.  “Okay, who’s on the com again?” she asked.

   “Miela and Coran.”

   “Go ahead and touch base with everyone.  I’m sending coordinates for our location; we can use our lions to help evacuate everyone once things are sorted out.”

   Keith looked around.  “That’s probably a good idea.  This ship doesn’t look big enough to hold very many passengers, anyway.”

   “Speaking of, you should go ahead and let everyone out.  Make sure nobody needs immediate medical attention.  Maybe reacquaint the guards with the holding cells.  I’ll be okay up here.”

   “Sounds good.”


	60. “The Conversion of Saul” - Z. Randall Stroope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boss fight ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost didn't get this one posted! This week has been utter chaos!

   Allura bounded across the rooftops, trying to stay out from under the young Galra’s blade, but at the same time, trying to keep him out of everyone else’s way.  Miela, Coran, and the paladins were feeding her updates bit by bit, keeping her abreast of their respective situations.  The prisoners were freed and Lance was awaiting instructions outside the compound, on the far side of the big room.  Hunk had rescued the medic and the baby, and was on his way to meet Lance.  Shiro had taken the inbound ship, and Pidge and Keith had commandeered it.  Now all that was left to do was neutralize the remaining threat.

   It was time to face Hayze and Raxxan.

   It suddenly occurred to Allura that, as she ran, she could only hear one set of footsteps.  She stopped and looked back.  Hayze had stopped pursuing her, and was looking across his left shoulder, out past the walls of the monastery, yellow eyes wide.  Allura followed his gaze, and immediately understood what he was looking at.  

   The throng of prisoners, fifty or sixty strong, had filed out of the tunnel beneath the monastery and were slowly washing toward the edge of the Big Cavern after a small figure in blue.  Following in their wake was the yellow paladin, clutching two more bodies, one in each arm.

   Hayze had seen them.  Allura watched him shake his head, and then he looked up at her.  His voice was muffled slightly by the sound of the rain on the roofs around them, but the fury in it rang clear.  “What have you _done_?”  He swiped his sword once in frustration, and then sprinted toward the walls.   It would be impossible to stop them all now, but he might be able to catch the stragglers.

   She cut him off just before he reached the wall, sliding in front of him and jabbing him in the chest with the tip of her staff.  But her reach wasn’t quite long enough.  If she had been closer, she might have broken his ribs or cracked his sternum, but Hayze had stopped just short of her reach.  

   He reluctantly took a step backward, and took the opportunity to study her from those few feet away.  

   Allura studied him back.  She hadn’t noticed until now, but his handsome features were marred by a periwinkle scar over his right brow bone, marring one eye brow and pointing toward his broken ear.

   Hayze took a deep breath and stood up straight.  “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come back,” he snarled.  His voice was rough and breathless.  “But since you’re in my way, we might as well finish what we started!”  He crossed his sword with her staff.

   The rage in his strikes was tangible.  Allura could keep up, parrying and holding her own against him, but it took everything she had to keep fear from crippling her.  Something about Hayze seemed to sap her strength, though whether it was his eyes or his figure, she wasn’t sure.  Maybe she was just getting tired; that was an option.  And if she considered that option, it was easy to replace fear with resignation.  Was that what gave him all this power?  Simple stamina?  It made sense, given the way the slaves were treated; none of them had ever had the strength to stand against him.  None of them, she thought, except Miela.

   Hayze knocked her back with a kick, sending her stumbling almost to the edge of the roof.  Allura caught herself and put up her defenses.

   “Was this what you wanted?” he shouted.  “Your return means death for those you tried so hard to liberate.”  He paused to shake the rain from his eyes.  “If you live one more day, I’ll make sure you never have a reason to fight again!”  He rushed her again.  He was so strong, so agile that Allura almost had trouble keeping up with his strikes.  Finally, he crossed his blade across her staff and leaned close.  “You think you’re so noble, so _pure_.  What do you have that I haven’t taken from you yet?”  He brought two more heavy strikes down across her rod.  “Tell me, so I can finally call you _mine_!”

   Mine?  Allura’s eyes widened as she realized what was going on.  In spite of his dedication, his excellent form and fighting skill, Hayze had been humbled by a human woman sometime long ago, and had carried that grudge for… who knew how long?  That grudge had rooted and blossomed into an ugly, possessive obsession, one which made Hayze all the more dangerous.

   She countered him, using her sheer disgust to power through, pushing him a few steps back away from the wall.

   Hayze sighed and tried to circle around to Allura’s left.  “You’re better than last time,” he mused.

   Yeah, Allura thought, maybe that’s because I’m not the same girl you fought last time.  If she weren’t so focused on avoiding his strikes, she might’ve rolled her eyes.  It was just her luck that Filomena had an enemy who liked to talk as much as he liked to fight.  Instead, she responded with a few hard strikes of her own.

   Unfortunately, Hayze rolled out of the way, dodging her staff and coming full circle around her.  He ducked once, and then somersaulted…

   She had underestimated him.  The hard bone of his knee slammed into Allura’s chest plate, throwing her off balance and sending her tumbling across the rooftop.  She rolled to a halt against a stone chimney, her knee connecting with the solid rock and sending shooting pain down her leg.  She cried out and nursed the injury with one hand; her knee pad had saved her a broken bone, but she still wasn’t sure whether or not the limb would hold her up.  She’d touched some kind of nerve; the joint felt weak and achy.

   But she couldn't give up yet.  She forced herself to her feet, using the chimney she had landed against for support.

   Hayze was still coming.  She ducked, and his blade created sparks across the stones where her head had just been.  The princess stumbled away, using her staff to parry his attacks, but she couldn’t counter; she didn’t have her sure footing anymore.

   That left her with only one option; retreat.  She couldn’t face the prospect of defeat; certainly not at Hayze’s hands.  If she was right about him, then death might be the least of her fears.

   She found her footing and brought her staff up under the young Galra’s chin with a snarl.  The blow knocked him over, and Allura turned and ran as fast as her legs would carry her toward the wall.

   “Shiro!” she cried.  “Hayze has spotted Hunk and the others!  I need help!”

   “I’m on my way!”  Shiro started toward Allura’s location, and tuned into the castle’s coms.  “Filomena, is there any way to cut him off?”

   “Hang on, we’re looking.”

   Shiro turned on his jet packs and hopped up to the nearest roof.  “Look faster!”

   The sound of rifle fire made Filomena look up at the other screens.  Lance had brought his bayard up to bear and was shooting at the solid rock wall to his right.

   “Lance!” Miela cried, “What are you doing?”

   “I’m shooting at the wall!  What do you think I’m doing?”

   “Why?”

   “Just trust me!”

   Hunk yelled at him across the cavern.  “We don’t have time for this, Lance!  Just tell me what you’re doing!”

   Lance pointed.  “I can hear water behind that wall.  If we open it up, we can put a river between us and the monastery.”

   The yellow paladin considered the thought.  “That’s… actually brilliant.  But your rifle isn’t going to move those rocks on its own.  We’ll have to shoot out those rocks from two different angles, and that means I’ll have to have my hands free.”  He ran up to the large group of ragged individuals and carefully set Matik down on the rocky ground.

   “Here,” said Lance.  “Give me that blanket.”

   Hunk unwound the blanket from around Cesare and handed it to Lance, who fashioned it into a sling and tied it across his front.  Then Lance took the baby and carefully slid him into the soft cradle between the sling and his chest plate.

   “You know a thing or two about babies, huh?” the big guy asked.

   “I come from a big family,” Lance explained.  “I used to babysit my sister’s kids all the time.”

   Hunk cocked his head.  “Huh,” he mused.  “It’s a wonder girls aren’t falling all  over you.”

   “I _know_ , right?”  Lance looked up at the cavern wall.  “Here, you get this side, where the rocks are bigger.”

   “What about you?” Hunk asked.  “You’ll be stuck on the wrong side of the river!”

   Lance cocked one eyebrow at him.  “I’ve still got my jet packs.  I’ll be fine.”

   The sound of clashing metal made both of them look up.  Barely a hundred yards away, a slender, feminine figure was doing heated battle with a gangly purple alien of Galra heritage.

   “That’s our cue!” said Lance, pulling out his rifle once more.  “Let’s get to work!”

   Hunk hustled the liberated prisoners into a cave that was set several feet off the floor of the big cavern, while Lance picked a spot from which he could shoot out the rocks that were stopping up the aquifer.  Pretty soon, Hunk’s cannon fire joined in the noise, and cracks began to form in the rock face.  Needle-sharp streams of water sprang from between the cracks in the wall.  Lance grinned and aimed a final shot at the center of the dam, and it all came loose, sending hundreds of tons of water splashing to the cavern floor.

   Lance let out a triumphant whoop.

   “Lance, look out!” Hunk cried.

   The blue paladin turned to look over his shoulder and ducked out of the way of the young Galra’s blade.  At that angle, the blow wouldn’t have killed him, but it would almost certainly have crippled his right arm.  Lance clasped Cesare to his chest and rolled sideways, and began to run parallel to the river, using his thrusters to try to keep ahead of Hayze.

   “Allura, where’d you go?” Lance yelped.  He turned and aimed a few shots at Hayze, but he dodged them gracefully and kept coming.  In desperation, Lance launched himself toward the river, but the alien grabbed him by the ankle and slammed him into the rocks, knocking the breath out of him and jarring the bayard out of his hands.  It skittered out of reach.

   Hayze raised his sword for a killing blow, and the blue paladin wrapped both arms protectively around the baby.

   A streak of white intercepted the sword in mid-strike.  There, Allura had appeared, staff in hand.  “Get out of here, Lance!”

   Hayze’s yellow eyes lit up in shock at the sound of her voice.  Then he muscled the woman sideways and threw her to the ground.  

   Lance yelped as the princess hit the rocks.  “Allura!”

   Hayze wasted no time in pinning Allura to the floor of the cave.  She struggled under him, but the young Galra wrenched her helmet off with one hand and tossed it to the side.

   Her cascade of silver hair came loose from its tight updo and fell around her face in waves, framing her brown skin.

   Hayze sat astride her, one arm pinned under his knee, the other grasped tightly in his wrist while he studied her.  Then he chuckled.  “Well,” he mumbled.  “I went fishing for a slave girl and caught a princess instead.”

   Lance raised himself up on his elbows.  “You let her go right now, or I’ll…!”

   Hayze pointed the tip of his sword up under Lance’s chin.  “No, I don’t think you will.”  He hummed.  “Princess Allura,” he mused.  “I know your name.  Perhaps it will be valuable enough to make up for our losses today.”  He glared up at Lance.  “As for you,” he said.  “I don’t know what your relationship to the princess is, but that child you carry is _mine_.”

   Lance snorted and clutched the baby tighter.  “He belongs with his mother,” he retorted defiantly.

   Hayze hummed thoughtfully.  “So you _are_ Filomena’s associates.”  He gestured with his wrist, the tip of his sword bobbing gently against Lance’s throat.  “And what are you?  Her lover?”  

   A blow from behind knocked Hayze off of Allura and rolled him onto his left side.  A booted foot came down on the blade, keeping Hayze from picking it up.  The alien pushed himself up on his knees, but a glowing hand appeared, hovering threateningly close to his carotid.  Hayze looked up into the black paladin’s face.

   “No,” said Shiro.  “That honor belongs to me.”

   Hayze sneered up at him.  “You would parent this boy in _my_ stead?”  Then a low chuckle bubbled from his throat.  “From the look of you, you’re less human than he is!”

   Lance’s brows came together in fury.  “Any of us would be a better parent than _you_!”

   “I’m his _father_!  He’s _mine_!”

   Lance inhaled sharply.

   Shiro narrowed his eyes at Hayze.  “Paternity doesn’t entitle you to _anything_ ,” he growled.  He glanced at the blue paladin over his shoulder.  “Lance, take the baby and go help Hunk.”

   “R-right.”  Lance picked up his bayard and rushed to obey.

   Allura got to her feet, picked up her helmet, and walked over next to Shiro.  

   “You okay?” he asked.

   “I’m fine.”  She pulled out a pair of wrist cuffs and looked down at Hayze.  “I should kill him,” she snarled.  “No one should _ever_ have to endure what he did to her.”

   Shiro nodded.  “I wouldn’t blame you.  And,” he added thoughtfully, “Filomena would probably thank you.”  Then he sighed.  “But that’s not our choice to make.”

   Allura gave Hayze a malicious sneer.  “We’ll let Filomena decide his fate, then.”

   “That’s fitting.”  Shiro bobbed his head at Hayze.  “Knit your fingers behind your head.  You’re coming with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably post this one of Hayze, just in case you're curious. https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C_WhNTpUAAAmUgg.jpg


	61. “Your Heart Will Lead You Home” - Kenny Loggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare comes home, and Shiro makes a mistake

   Miela had met Pidge in a crushing hug the moment she entered the castle, and the two of them fell together in a heap of emotional tears.  The woman had sobbed apologies into the girl’s ear, petted her hair and examined the swelling in her eyes until the green paladin smiled at her motherly fussing.

   Lance cleared his throat.  “I hate to interrupt such a _tender_ moment,” he said, “but the little man has waited a long time to see his mom.”  He lowered the baby into Filomena’s arms.

   For a moment, it was impossible for the young woman to find words.  Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, and then she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Lance’s cheek.  

   The Cuban boy blushed and hugged her, but backed out of her arms pretty quickly.  “Keep that up, and you’ll make Shiro jealous,” he mumbled.  Miela chuckled under her breath and let him go, where Lance’s smile faded.  “You know I have to take him,” the blue paladin said softly.  “Of all the prisoners, your baby’s health is probably the most fragile.  We need to get him into a cryo-pod.”

   Miela nodded.  “I know,” she whispered.  “Just… let me hold him for a few minutes.”

   Lance smirked.  “Of course.”  He backed away to allow her some room.

   Shiro stood on the edge of the tearful homecoming welcome and watched as Filomena renewed her bonds with her son.  As he watched the happiness occurring before him, something pinched his chest.  He rubbed the spot across his heart and reflected that he had felt this once before.

   It was a warning.  And this time, he knew what it meant.  This was it; this was the beginning of the end.  Her part in their quest was over, and it would soon be time for her to leave.

   But Filomena hadn’t yet focused on the fate ahead of them.  Or maybe, he thought, she had a different plan.  That was a possibility.  Filomena was resourceful woman, after all, and if she could fight the undertow (or at least find some way around it), that’s precisely what she would do.  She looked up at him, and then closed the few steps between them.  She stared up at Shiro for a moment, and then stepped into him for a long, warm embrace.

   Shiro realized then how much of a coward he really was.  He didn’t have the heart to push her away, even though he knew how much it would hurt later.  But at the same time, he noticed a completely contradictory emotion, one he couldn’t yet name.  It would trouble him for the next several weeks.  

   But until then, he wanted this.  Her warmth against him was inviting, and for the few moments he was in her arms, he felt at home.  He wrapped both arms around her.  “I told you we’d be back,” he whispered.  “You didn’t need to worry, after all.”

   She shook her head against his shoulder.  “I was going to worry about you anyway.”  She drew away and aimed a tearful smile up at him.  “At this point, I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying.”

   Shiro laughed and bent his forehead against hers.  “Well, that’s proof that you’ll be a great mom.”

   Allura came up behind Shiro and clapped him on the shoulder.  “And Shiro definitely holds the title of father-figure on this ship.”

   The black paladin shot her a wry look, and the rest of the paladins started laughing.

   “That reminds me,” said Filomena.  “There’s someone I wanted you to meet.”  She turned her eyes down at the child in her arms.  “Takashi, this is my son, Cesare.”

   Shiro passed his right hand gently over the little boy’s soft, black hair.  “Pidge was right,” he whispered.  “He’s beautiful, just like his mother.”  He chuckled.  “I don’t know where the black hair came from, though.”

   Miela sniffed and choked back her tears.  “Apparently it runs in the family.  My sister and I had it when we were little, too.”

   The black paladin laughed under his breath.  “Your _platinum blonde_ little sister?”

   “Yeah.”  She looked up at him.  “I don’t want to let him go, Takashi.”

   Shiro smiled and combed his fingers through the hair on her temple.  “It’s okay.  We’ve got him back.  We just have to make sure he’s okay, and then you’ll never have to let him go again.”

   Lance piped up.  “Since I actually have experience with small children, I’m gonna go ahead and let you know that eventually you _are_ going to want to sleep.”  He shrugged.  “Just sayin’.”

   Shiro looked up at him.  “Are you volunteering, Lance?”

   “Absolutely.  Babysitting is definitely within my skill set.”  His smile softened.  “We should head toward the sleep chamber.  Do you want to carry him?”

   Miela nodded.  “Yeah.”  She smiled once at Shiro, and then turned to follow Lance out the door.

   Shiro watched her until the other paladins had left the room, and then finally let himself sink heavily onto one of the couches.

   He’d forgotten Allura was still in the room.  At the sound of her sharp inhale, he cringed.  “Ah, quiznak.”

   The princess hurried over and knelt next to him.  “Shiro, are you all right?”

   “Fine.  I’m fine,” he breathed.  “I’m just a little sore.”  He forced a strong smile and looked up at her, but she just stared at him.  “What?” he asked.

   “Is it true?” she asked.

   Shiro looked at her.  “Is what true?”

   Allura’s blue eyes were shining with worry.  “Is it true that rockslide could’ve killed you?”

   He sighed.  “Yes.”  He studied his knees for a moment, and then swallowed.  “Allura, I… I lost consciousness.  Usually, you don’t wake up after that.”  He shook his head.  “I shouldn’t have survived.”

   “What do you think happened?”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t know.  Filomena… she… she manipulated my energy somehow.”  He laughed under his breath.  “I don’t know.  Maybe I dreamed it, but it felt… it felt like she was actually there.  Holding my hand.”  He turned his prosthetic over and studied his palm, as if he could still feel her skin.

   Allura looked at the floor.  “Do you think she could be something… other than human?” she asked.

   Shiro shook his head.  “Not really.  I’ve heard stories about humans who could do that.  I’d just never seen it firsthand.”

   The princess harrumphed.  “Whatever the case, you need to get into one of the cryo-replenishers.  I won’t risk losing one of my paladins.”

   “The prisoners take precedence, Allura,” said Shiro.

   “You don’t get to tell me who takes precedence!”  She pulled up her com screen.  “Hunk, are you there?”

   The yellow paladin’s face appeared on screen.  “Yeah.  What’s up?”

   “Save a pod for Shiro.  He was injured and chose not to tell anyone.”

   “What?”  Hunk glared into the screen.  “Shiro, get your butt down here, now!  Don’t make me come get you!”

   Shiro laughed under his breath at Hunk’s tone.  “All right, all right, I’m going.”

   Farther down the hall, Miela and Lance met up with the former prisoners from Aepsis.  They sat in huddled groups of four or five, scattered all across the sleep chamber and filling most of the floor space.  Most of them were probably still in shock, but Hunk and Coran were there, petting down frayed nerves with cups of tea and never-ending plates of green food goo.  

   She looked around at the tattered masses, and, one by one, the alien prisoners looked up at her.  The room went absolutely silent.

   Then, from the corner of the room, a tall, lanky figure picked her way across the crowd.  It was Matik.  Her eyes were still red and puffy, but they were open, and she had a dainty smile pressed into the creases of her mouth.  She came to a halt in front of Miela, and slowly lifted her hand onto the smaller woman’s shoulder.

   “What took you so long?” Matik asked.

   Miela’s eyes teared up again, and she took the Grey into a tight hug.  Somewhere across the room, there was the sound of clapping.  The sound grew, in volume and intensity, until every able-bodied alien was applauding.

   “I should’ve known it was you,” the medic said, stroking Filomena’s auburn hair.  “You’re so _stubborn_.”  She gently pushed her out to arm’s length.  “The green one takes after you.”

   Miela wiped her face and smiled at the mention of Pidge.  “She does that without my help.”

   Matik’s forehead creased in amusement.  “Then you’re in very good company.  You’d better watch it, or _myshonok_ will inherit that trait.”  She gestured at the room.  “We were waiting for you.”

   “Me?  Why?”

   Matik smirked.  “We wanted the little one to have the first pod.”

   Humility crossed Filomena’s features.  “You are too good, Matik.”

   “Never.”  She shook her head.  “The decision was unanimous.”

   Coran prepared a special horizontal pod just for the baby, so that the little boy was lying on his back and unable to fall out.  It took everything Filomena had to let him go, but she dutifully set him down in the pod to prepare him for a long-awaited nap.  She petted his hair and kissed his tiny, dimpled cheeks, and almost started crying again when Cesare granted her a tiny, toothless grin.

   Everything was going to be fine.

   When Cesare was safely sleeping, Filomena helped prepare each of the newly liberated prisoners for a well-earned rest in the sleep room.  The woman greeted each of the aliens in much the same way; with the loving embrace of someone too long removed from her family.

   But she was stunned when Shiro appeared in the door, with Allura supporting him under one arm.  “Takashi?”

   He looked up at her, and the ache in his bones throbbed as he tried to read the confusion in her face.  He had done it again; another lie of omission.  Shiro slowed his pace, but Allura refused to let him stop.  Even as he called across the room to her, Allura dragged him into the sleep chamber and maneuvered him into a standing pod.  “Filomena, I…”  He half-heartedly tried to push his way back out of the pod, but the princess just shoved him further inside.  “I’m sorry!”

   Allura turned away.  “Coran, close it up.”

   The door slid closed, and Shiro leaned into the transparent pane and pressed both hands against its surface.  His voice was muffled.  “Filomena!”

   The woman made a small gesture at Coran, and the man paused and looked up at her.  She slowly picked her way across the room, and stood in front of Shiro’s pod, staring up at him.  There was hurt in her face, but her shoulders lifted in a silent sigh, and it was gone.  Filomena lifted her left hand and slid it along the glass between them, until her palm was pressed against his.

   Shiro looked at their hands, and then looked up at her face.

   She gave him a weak smile, and said something that the pod door muffled until it came out untranslated.  “ _Buona notte_ , Takashi.”  Good night.

   Perhaps that was all the forgiveness he deserved.  Shiro gave in.  He gave her a sheepish smirk and leaned back into the cryo-pod.

   Coran activated the pod, and Shiro’s expression went slack, his chin lowered just slightly, and his eyes drifted closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking hate my printer/ scanner. Picture update!  
>   
> [Hello, Cesare](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Hello-Cesare-687504645) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


	62. “Voi, che sapete” from “Le Nozze di Figaro” - W. A. Mozart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miela looks to Coran and Pidge for advice... apparently not the advice she really wanted.

   The swelling around Pidge’s eyes was almost gone by the time they ushered her into a cryo-pod.  She gave Shiro’s pod a worried stare once before she backed into the pod.  “You think he’ll be out soon?” she asked.

   Miela shook her head.  “I don’t know.  He… he didn’t tell me he was hurt, so I don’t know what kind of damage was done.”

   Pidge closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in irritation.  “I’ll have a talk with him once we’re both out.  He has literally never done that before.”  She nodded her head to one side.  “He must be really smitten with you.”

   Miela seemed taken aback by the idea.  “What makes you say that?”

   “Hiding your pain is counter-productive,” said Pidge.  “We have to be mission-ready, and that means we have to be honest about our physical status.  If he’s hiding pain from you, it’s gotta mean something.”

   “And your natural assumption is that he’s in love?” Miela asked.

   Pidge shrugged.  “It’s better than any of the alternatives I can dream up.”

   Miela gave her a tired look, and then sighed.  “I’ll have to think about that.  Get some rest.”  Then she smiled.  “And thank you for today.  You did amazing work, and I’m indebted to you.”

   The girl shrugged.  “Eh.  It’s what we do.”

   Pidge fell asleep with a smile on her face.  That alone should have worried Filomena, but in all honesty, she was more concerned about the conversation she and the green paladin had just had.  Cool-headed Shiro in _love_?  It was too soon, wasn’t it?  Not only that, but it would mean that the leader of the Voltron force had taken one step further toward being emotionally compromised.  Didn’t it?

   She shook her head.  Too soon; that was a joke.  She allowed herself a rueful smile as she reflected on her time back on Earth, and the men who had fallen for her, some in even less time.  That was a drama she was glad was long over.  She sighed.  Or… maybe not quite over.

   That was not to say she didn’t enjoy it, just a little bit.  She remembered enjoying the pursuit; the rush of power and the boost to self-esteem were once addicting.  What had happened, these last four years?  Never mind, she already knew the answer to that; she had settled into a more demanding, straightforward way of life.  In being a slave, she had needed to shut out invasive, unwholesome personalities and toxic influences in order to survive.  She needed to mean what she said, and give affection deliberately, and not so freely. 

   She hadn’t wooed Shiro.  No teasing, no flirting.  She had _never_ intended for this to happen.  Was this how falling was actually supposed to go?  Never _forced_ , never _tried_ … maybe that was why they called it “falling;” because it was effortless.

   “Are you all right?”

   Miela looked up at Coran.  The redheaded man had a look of gentle concern on his face.  Miela blinked and shook the thoughts out of her head.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

   “You looked shaken,” he observed.

   Miela shrugged.  “It was just my conversation with Pidge.  I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.”

   Coran hummed.  “The prospect of being loved?” he asked.  Miela looked at him, and he chuckled warmly.  “Dear girl, you are already loved.”

   “You… you don’t mind?”

   “Why should I?” he asked.  “The paladins’ relationships are none of my concern.”

   She shook her head.  “That’s not what I mean.”

   He looked up at her.  “What _do_ you mean?”

   “Don’t you think it’s dangerous?”

   That made him laugh out loud.  “Of _course_ it’s dangerous!” he said, a little too loudly.  “It wouldn’t be love otherwise.”  Then he leaned in close to her.  “It wouldn’t be worth it otherwise.”

   Miela gave him a tired look.  “I should’ve known you were a romantic at heart.”

   “That was never a secret,” Coran told her.  “But it often takes one to know one.”  He glanced up at Miela as her face went pink.  “You’ve been trying very hard to hide it, haven’t you?”

   She looked away.  “Not… not really.”  She gestured to herself with both hands.  “This… this is me.  My real self.”  Then she glanced at the floor again.  “It used to be more complicated, but at some point I kind of… stripped everything else away.  Everything that didn’t matter.”

   Coran returned his attention to the central console.  “As we age, we all try to untie the knots that make our lives complicated.  That’s how it goes.  But love doesn’t have to be a tangled web, believe it or not.  The only reason it _is_ is because we make it so.”  He smirked up at her.  “I’ve lived through my share of complications, I assure you, and my general opinion has been that they just aren’t worth their individual heartaches.”

   Miela studied him a moment, and Coran went back to working at the console.  “I guess I have some things to think about, then.”  She sighed.  “Until I come to my own conclusions, however, is there anything I can do here?”

   “I think we’ve got just about everything covered.  We’ve fed the masses, treated the little bumps and scrapes.  Now all we can do is wait while the prisoners take turns in the cryo-replenishers.”

   “How long do you think it will take to treat everyone?”

   Coran shrugged.  “It depends on the severity of their injuries.  Still, there are so many of them this time, it might take a while.  At least a Spicolian movement.”

   A week.  Perhaps more.  Filomena sighed.  She had to find something to do until… until there was something for her to _do_.  She looked at her hands.  Her fingernails were already chewed down to nubs.  “And…”

   Coran looked up at her.

   “And Shiro?”

   The redheaded man smirked under his moustache.  “He’ll be fine, Filomena.  Give him another varga.”

   Miela smirked, and then turned for the door.

   “And by the way,” Coran called after her, “no one minds that you call him by his real name.”

   “Really?”

   Coran made a noise in his throat.  “Seems to me it’s the finest term of affection he’s ever received.”  He glanced up at her.  “He’s only ever called you by yours.”

   She couldn’t possibly explain to him how much that _didn’t help_.


	63. “I Will Always Love You” - Whitney Houston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura and Filomena have girl talk

   Filomena couldn’t sit still.  When she had worn blisters on her heels from pacing the floor, she finally sat down on the floor of the engineering deck and picked up a pair of pliers.  If nothing else, she had to do something with her hands.

   Allura walked into the room several doboshes later to see the woman stringing together tiny shavings of metal into intricate chains.  “My goodness, what _are_ you doing?” she asked.

   Miela looked over her shoulder at the princess and promptly dropped what she was doing.  She stood up and dusted herself off.  “I-I’m sorry,” she said.  “I needed to do something, even if it was just a distraction.”

   Allura bent and picked up the chain between two fingers.  “You made _this_?”  She studied it with both hands, noting its facets and the particular knots Miela was creating.  Then she looked down at the unwieldy pliers.  “With _those_?”

   “Y-yes…”

   The princess stood upright, still in awe over the beautiful piece of jewelry.  Then she smiled up at Filomena.  “I might have a job for you, then.  That is, if you don’t mind.”

   She led Miela to a room she hadn’t noticed before, and turned on the lights.  It was piled, floor almost to the ceiling, with machinery that was covered in a thick layer of dust.  It was the one area in the castle where Miela could smell the age of the place.

   “Where are we?”

   Allura turned and smiled at her.  “This is our workshop.  Hunk uses the hangars or the engineering deck, so most of these machines haven’t seen action in quite some time.”

   Miela looked around until her gaze landed on Allura again.  “What did you want me to do?”

   “Test them out, make sure they all still work.”

   “What?” Miela asked.  “By myself?”

   “Of course not.”  She looked at the floor with a sheepish smile.  “I… seem to have found myself perilously idle.”

   Miela sighed.  Thank goodness for small favors.

   The two women chatted amiably as they worked, with Allura explaining the function of each of the tools.  But over the time, Miela noticed that the princess was avoiding one particular structure that sat over against the wall.

   Finally, Miela called her on it.  “What’s that one?”

   Allura looked hesitant.  “It… I guess you could call it a crucible.  Hunk’s the only one who really knows how to use it; he and Pidge have been known to use the forge from time to time.”

   “You have a _forge_?” Miela asked with a laugh.

   “What castle would be complete without one?” Allura asked in return.  She walked over to a work table and opened a tool box.

   Miela looked down into the box.  Inside was a small pile of broken pieces, bits of various metals and shining gemstones.  “Jewelry?” she asked.

   “We can use it to test out some of the machines.  It’s all broken anyway.”  That last phrase was said more softly.

   Filomena recognized the sadness in her voice.  If she didn’t know better, she would have thought something priceless was in that box.  “What’s in it?”

   Allura glanced up at her, and gave her a weak smile.  Of course Miela would notice the change in her tone.  “It was a necklace of my mother’s,” she admitted.  “My father gave it to me when I was little, but…”

   “I understand,” said Miela.  “Children break things.”  She looked at the floor.  “But… Maybe I could fix it.”

   “I’m not sure it would be worth you trying,” said the princess.  “I can’t count the number of times I’ve tried, just to end up making it worse.”

   “Then I suppose you have nothing to lose.”

   Allura’s smile widened.  “No, I suppose not.”

   Miela and Allura carefully pieced together the severed sections of each bejeweled adornment, until the pile was spread thinly across the floor of the workshop.

   Finally, Miela looked up.  “You’re lucky.  Most of these can be repaired with just a pair of pliers.”  She looked at the complicated knots of the necklace Allura had left off to the side.  “Your mother’s necklace, however, is missing several links.”

   Allura scratched the back of her head.  “I… did say I had tried to repair it a few times before.”

   Meila sat back on her heels and thought for a moment.  “You know,” she said, “I might have just the thing.”  She unzipped the top few inches of her suit and reached a hand across her chest and into the cap of her shoulder pad.

   The princess made a startled face, but it turned to utter shock when Miela pulled out a familiar object.  It was a small, clear, sealed bag filled with metal rings.  “It’s your… your collar,” the princess whispered.

   Filomena made a positive noise in her throat and unzipped the bag.  “The metals are at least the same color.”

   “Are you sure?”

   Filomena looked up.  “About what?”  When Allura couldn’t seem to find the appropriate words for what she was trying to ask, Filomena sighed.  “I wore this collar for four straight years,” she said.  “But… I need to face the truth; that it’s not a part of me.  Maybe it never should have been, but… time binds things to you.  But if I can use it for something more positive, to remind you and the paladins of our friendship, maybe then I can be pleased with parting with it.”

   Princess Allura gave her a humbled smile.  “You truly are amazing, Filomena.  I hope you know that.”

   The woman looked at the floor, blushed, and made a noncommittal noise in her throat.  “Meh.”  She gently set the individual pieces of the necklace on her lap and began working the new links into the old ones. 

   Allura scooted over beside her and handed her a pair of tiny needle-nosed pliers.  “These will be better than that monstrosity you were working with.”

   “Thank you.”

   The princess cocked her head.  “How are you doing that without magnification?” she asked.

   “I’m severely nearsighted,” Miela said under her breath.  “I told Takashi, but… I guess I forgot to mention it outside our conversation.”

   “It never came up until just now.”  She looked at the bag of chain links.  “What will you do with the rest?”

   Miela glanced at the bag, and then hummed.  “I think I’ll use it to make something for the paladins.  A keepsake, perhaps.”

   Allura smirked.  “After all that’s happened, you’re going to be hard to forget.  For Shiro, especially.”

   Filomena fumbled one of the tiny chain links, but caught it before it hit the floor.  She blushed and tried to focus on her work.  “I-I was actually trying not to think about that.”

   “I did warn you we would have to discuss it.”

   The woman sighed and looked up.  “Yes, you did.”  She gave Allura a worried look.  “I’m sorry.  I crossed a line.”

   “I’m not sure yet if you did or not,” Allura said soothingly.  “Just _talk_ to me.  We’re friends, and what’s better, we’re _girls_.”  Her tone became playful.  “We deserve a bit of gossip now and again.”

   An uncertain smile crossed Miela’s face.  “Perhaps you’re right.”  She picked up another link and began working it gently into the necklace.  “I’ve been keeping everyone at arm’s length,” she said.  “Not because of what anyone has done to me… not really, anyway, but because I needed to maintain some semblance of decorum aboard your ship.”  She worked the pliers around the gap in the link and pinched it closed.  “When Lance made his first move, I wasn’t surprised.  He flirted with me from the moment he met me, and frankly, that’s the kind of behavior I’m used to.”

   Allura’s expression went flat.  “Bad pickup lines and poorly-devised innuendo?”

   “Pretty much.”  She shrugged.  “Italian men become very good at it, over time.”  She glanced up at Allura.  “It takes some longer than others, but my countrymen are renowned for being the ultimate romancers.”  She smiled weakly.  

   “What’s that look for?” Allura asked.

   Miela harrumphed.  “My ex-boyfriend was… an exceptional lover.  But somehow, he always left me wanting something more.  Right before I was taken, I found out why.”  She sighed.  “Apparently I wasn’t the only love in his life.”

   The princess cocked her head.  “Your species is mostly monogamous, right?”

   “For the most part.  There are cultures in which that isn’t true, even among humans, but many of us… I don’t know.  We fantasize about being loved by one person, out of the seven billion on our planet.  We call that concept a ‘soul mate’.”

   “It sounds like a very rare occurrence.”

   “I would assume so.  Some humans mate for life, and never recover from the loss of a mate.”  Miela adjusted the necklace on her lap so that it lay at a different angle.  “My beliefs being what they are, however, I think it’s possible to have several choices in mates, depending on the period of one’s life.”

   Allura looked confused.  “So… is it possible that you and Shiro have met before?  In another time?”

   “I would almost expect it.”

   “And that you and Lance or Keith had had relationships?”

   “Sure.  If you want to get technical about it, I could have had any kind of relationship to any of them.  Familial, romantic, distant.  Perhaps we were enemies.  Who knows?”  She shrugged.  “There’s no limit.”

   “So… why did you push the boys away, only to let Shiro in?”

   Filomena sighed and looked up at her friend.  “The age of consent in my country and that of your paladins is separated by a few years.  That would make my relationship with Keith or Lance criminal.”

   “Oh.”  Allura looked appropriately surprised.  “I… I didn’t know.”

   Miela shrugged again.  “Even so, a ten year gap between lovers is… unusual.  Not unheard of, but somewhat frowned upon.  Besides, I was focused on something more important.”

   “Your baby.”

   “Yes.  I had promised not to cause trouble, didn’t I?”  She smirked.  “I turned down your local romantic’s advances, and to be honest, I thought that would be the end of it.”

   “You weren’t expecting that kind of behavior from Keith.”

   Miela shook her head.  “No, I wasn’t.  So when he tried to kiss me, I thought very hard about reevaluating the way in which I treated your teammates.”

   Allura rubbed her chin thoughtfully.  “That’s why you didn’t show up for dinner that night.”

   She got a nod.  “I have to admit, I was ready to forego all contact with you and your team until absolutely necessary.  It was only when Hunk came to talk to me that I decided against it.”

   “What about Shiro, then?” Allura asked.  “What made him change his mind?”

   Miela chuckled warmly.  “I won’t claim to know what was going on in his head when he decided to… to do that.”

   “Do what?”

   Filomena looked up at the princess.  She studied her for a moment, and then sighed.  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” she asked.  “We’re talking about the leader of your paladins.”

   Allura shrugged.  “I don’t really care who it is.”  She leaned in a little closer.  “I like secrets, and I don’t have any good ones about Shiro.”

   Filomena couldn’t help but crack a grin.  “Very well.”  She leaned in toward Allura’s ear.  “He’s ticklish.”

   The princess’ lips parted in a bright smile.  “No!” she said disbelievingly.

   Miela nodded and giggled.

   “How _did_ it happen?” Allura asked.

   The woman shook her head.  “I don’t really know.  I mean, now that we’re… whatever we are, I realize I could see the indicators leading up to what happened… but I don’t know what the catalyst was.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “I mean I should’ve seen it coming.  That basic connection we made when he apologized to me that first day…”  She shook her head.  “It just spiraled out of control after that.  I could’ve been content with a partner or a colleague, but… maybe there was too much fire between us.”

   Allura nodded.  “I saw that much during your sparring match,” she grumbled.  “And the fight afterward.”

   Miela snorted.  “Not one of my more graceful moments, I’ll admit.”

   Allura laughed and rocked back on her heels.  “I don’t know.  You definitely know your way around an argument.”

   The older woman chuckled.  “It wasn’t always so.”  Then she nodded her head to one side.  “Sometimes still isn’t.”  A light went on behind her eyes, and she put her tools down.  “Maybe that was it.”

   “What?”

   Miela sighed.  “I tried to pick a fight with Takashi last night.  I was… well, I won’t sugar-coat it; I was rude.  But he wouldn’t take the bait, even when I attacked him.”  She shook her head.  “He tossed me across the room like it was nothing, pinned me and demanded I stop keeping things from him… from all of you.”  She picked up the necklace again and hooked another link into it.  “And I just… broke down.  Just like that.”  She gently pinched the link closed and added another one.  “We talked a little more after that, and I realized that the only person I was really angry at was myself.”

   “Why?” Allura asked, her voice almost silken on her breath.

   The woman smiled.  “Because I had let myself become distracted by your team; by their kindness and ingenuity, their creativity… their love.  And I was ashamed that I could be happy while my son was still down on Aepsis.”  She swallowed.  “So I asked him if he ever got that way.  If he ever got… distracted.”

   Allura’s eyes lit up in understanding.  “That was when he kissed you.”

   “Yes.”

   The princess looked at the floor.  “It’s my fault, then.”

   Filomena looked up.  “What?” she asked.  Then she gave her friend a confused smirk.  “That’s absurd.  How can that be your fault?”

   Allura heaved a sigh, her shoulders rising and falling in sync with her breathing.  “Only vargas before, I accused him of treating you as a distraction.”  Filomena’s eyebrows went up, but Allura went on.  “I had intended it to snap him out of a particular line of thinking, regarding the mission.  At the time, I thought I was just pointing out fact.  Had I known it was something… something else, I might have held my tongue.”

   “You couldn’t have known that.”  Allura looked up into Filomena’s smile.  “None of us could have predicted it.  As far as I am aware, you did your job to the best of your ability.  And maybe you were right, where Takashi was concerned.  If nothing else, it forced him to be honest with his intentions.”

   Allura nodded.  “I suppose that much is true.”  She looked up at Filomena.  “What about yours?”

   “I made my intentions abundantly clear,” the woman said softly.  “They haven’t changed.”

   “You mean…”  Allura almost didn’t want to say the words.  “You’re still going to leave.”

   Miela glanced up at her.  The princess was still staring at the floor.  Filomena’s face bent into an unhappy frown, and she refocused on her work.  “I don’t see where I have a choice.”  She forced a laugh.  “After all the drama I brought on board, I figured you’d be happy to get rid of me.”

   Allura smirked at her attempt at levity.  “I never thought any such thing, actually.  I was wary of you, but you’ve spent more time with us than any other visitor.”  She sighed.  “Letting you go… it’s going to be hard on all of us, even after only a few quintants.”

   The woman sighed and held up the necklace to examine it.  “Perhaps that’s the part I really didn’t want to think about,” she said.  “I’d rather enjoy what’s left of my time among you, rather than agonize over the eventual date when I have to leave.”  She eyed her work critically, section by section, and then lowered it until she could see Allura’s face over the top of the necklace.  Finally, Miela smiled again, and put the chain down on her lap once more.  “I don’t have any illusions about what happens next,” she murmured.  She scooted closer and lifted the necklace into Allura’s hands.  “We would only get in your way.”

   The princess examined her mother’s necklace, remade from the chains of a slave collar.  It was as intricate as she remembered, but there were small, subtle accent chains along the bottom edge, creating a lace-like pattern.  “This is beautiful,” she whispered.

   “I hope it’s something like what you remember,” said Miela.

   Allura glanced up at her, and for the first time in a while, there were tears in her eyes.  “It’s perfect.”  She placed it around her neck and allowed Miela to help her with the clasp.  “It’s like I never broke it.”

   “I did what I could.”  She placed her fingertips under Allura’s chin and turned the princess’ face to look at her.  “Don’t cry, Princess.  I’m not gone yet.”


	64. “Not the Doctor” - Alanis Morisette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has a rude wake-up call

   Pidge was waiting by the center console when Shiro woke up.  He caught himself before he could fall out of the pod on top of her.

   “Hey, easy there!” the girl said.  “I don’t know if I can take your weight.”

   Shiro gently shook the fog from his eyes.  “S-sorry.”  He made sure his legs were steady under him before gently supporting his balance on Pidge’s shoulder.  “How long was I out?”

   “Almost eight vargas.”  Her eyebrows came together in worry.  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

   Shiro sighed and sat down on one of the steps.  “At the time, I was pretty sure it was just latent soreness.”

   “You almost got crushed in a cave-in, Shiro!” the green paladin squeaked.  “That should automatically qualify you for some time in a pod!”

   Shiro nodded, a little condescendingly.  “Yes, yes, I see that now.”

   “And I’m repeating myself here, but you were in there for _eight vargas_ ,” the girl emphasized.  “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.  You could’ve damaged your _spinal column_ , Shiro!”

   “Pidge, I understand you’re worried, but please keep in mind I just woke up,” Shiro grumbled.

   “Why?  Should I yell louder?”  She folded her arms crossly.  “Maybe you’ll hear me then.”

   Shiro looked up at her.  “What am I supposed to be hearing, Pidge?” he asked, point-blank.  “Aside from you yelling at me, that is.”

   “Oh, trust me, you haven’t heard anything yet.  Just wait until Allura gets her hands on you.”

   The black paladin sighed.  “Come on, Pidge, calm down.  I know you’re mad for a reason, but you’re not giving me anything to work with.”

   Pidge’s anger seemed to dissolve into disappointment.  “We’re your team.  You’ve never kept stuff like this from us before, and it wasn’t right.”  She sighed.  “Keith was awake almost all night, worrying about you.  The only reason I wasn’t out here sooner was because Miela insisted I take a turn in a pod, too.”  She unfolded her arms and crouched before him.  “Now, I’m no social butterfly, but I’d bet every point of my I.Q. that this has something to do with her.”

   Shiro gave her a dry look.  “I’m pretty sure discussing my love life with you crosses some lines, Pidge.”

   “You know that only confirms it, right?”

   Shiro groaned and rubbed his face.  Then he sighed.  “How is she?” 

   “She’s exhausted.  She doesn’t take waiting very well, so Allura kept her busy doing little projects most of the night.”  She granted him a small smile.  “She’s probably still asleep.  It’s about four in the morning.”

   “And Cesare?”

   “He’s still in the mini-pod.  From what I hear, though, babies need lots of sleep.”

   Shiro sighed and carded his fingers through his hair once.  “Fine,” he caved.  “What do you want?”

   “An explanation would be a good start.”

   He shrugged at her.  “I’m not sure I have one,” he said. “Couldn’t you ask for something else?”

   Pidge wrung her hands into fists at her sides.  “Nope.  Not good enough.”

   He shrugged helplessly at her.  “Then I don’t understand what you want from me!” he said.

   “Do you honestly expect me to believe you understand what you did wrong?” she asked.  “Why are you doing this?  Why are you suddenly being this way?  We are _worried_ about you, Shiro!”

   “Yes, I see that!”

   “Do you at least know why?”

   Shiro sighed.  “Yes, I have some idea why.”

   “Then what made you do it?” Pidge asked.  “You hid an injury from a woman you have known less than a week.  Why?”

   Shiro stared at her for a few ticks, and then sighed and looked at the space between his feet.  “I… I don’t know.”

   “Was it to hurt her?”

   “What?  No!”

   “Was it to control her?  To get her to do what you wanted?”

   “I- I don’t…  Maybe… no.  No.  I just didn’t want her to worry.”

   The girl cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Do you really care that much what she thinks?”

   He was quiet.

   Pidge’s face went slack in astonishment.  “Holy jeez, you do.”

   “Pidge…”

   She waved her hands at him.  “Okay, you know what, let’s just move on for a minute.  How about the anxiety attack we witnessed yesterday morning?”

   The black paladin shot her a warning glare, but Pidge was unfazed.  “I’m well aware that I’m… a little damaged.”

   “I’m not even talking about that, Shiro.  I’m talking about Miela.”  The girl sighed.  “We’re all scared.  At this point, I’m pretty sure we all have nightmares.  But she was part of your dreams, and that’s more important than I think you really understand.”

   A worried look crossed Shiro’s face.  “I’m not sure I should be talking to you about this, Pidge.”

   “I am _literally_ the most qualified person aboard this ship!” she snapped.

   “Actually,” said a slightly nasal voice, “I believe that would be me.”  

   The two bickering humans looked up at the Grey.

   Shiro stood up.  “Matik!” he said in surprise.  “I…I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to involve you in our discussion.” 

   She offered him a slight harrumph.  “Then it might not be too bold of me to say you picked the wrong location to have an argument.”  She folded her arms, which hid the stub where her left hand should be.  “The green one is very observant,” she told Shiro. 

   “Believe me, I noticed,” Shiro mumbled. 

   Matik went on.  “As the current on-board medic, I’m available if you require counseling.”

   Pidge stood up and crossed her arms.  “That is an excellent idea,” she said.  “Shiro, what do you say?”

   Shiro glared at the girl.  “For now, let’s just drop it.  Let me have some time to think, and we’ll talk later.”  He heaved a sigh, and turned for the door.

   “Shiro,” Pidge called after him.

   “Later,” he insisted.  “I… I have to go.”

   “You need to tell her, Shiro,” Pidge said abruptly.

   Shiro stopped in the doorway.

   “If you care about her, you need to tell her before it’s too late.”

   The black paladin considered her words for a moment, and then continued out of the room.


	65. “Sugar” - Maroon 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the trouble begins

   Shiro spent a little more time under the stream of hot water than was really necessary.  He was hungry when he came out of the cryo-pod, but his stomach was tied up in too many knots for him to consider eating, so a shower was the next best thing.  He thought the steam and stinging heat would loosen the tension in his back and shoulders, but with _her_ on the brain all it really seemed to accomplish was to raise his blood pressure.

   This was clearly not working.  He would have had more luck if he had just asked her for another massage.  The thought quickened his heart rate to the point that standing under the hot water was dangerously uncomfortable.  He turned off the water and switched on the vent fan, and stood there while the cold air slowly brought his heart rate back to normal.  

   It could’ve been a really good shower; the indulgent kind where he wasted enough hot water for five or six showers.  But Pidge’s words were still ringing in his ears, and that was keeping him from feeling anything except guilt.  Where was he going to screw up next?

   He shook his head.  That line of thinking could paralyze him if he let it.  He had to push through.  Might as well get out. 

   He was able to keep his mind mostly blank until he was dressed and out in the hall.  It hit him in pangs, but that was a feeling he was mostly used to.  One more mistake wouldn’t worsen it.

   The pain in his stomach was new, though.  He pressed his left hand to his belly and realized it would only get worse if he didn’t eat something soon.  He wasn’t in the mood for food goo, but at the same time he was worried who he might encounter on his way to the kitchen.

   But strangely, he met no one.  Strangely, he thought, because the warm, toasted scent of excellent coffee was wafting from the room.  He rounded the door, and had to admit he was less than surprised to see Filomena leaned against the far corner, sipping a cup of her newest creation.

   She glanced up at him over the rim of her cup.  “Coffee’s hot,” she murmured.

   He smirked at her.  “Pidge said you’d be asleep.”

   She licked her lip and shook her head.  “I couldn’t possibly.”

   Shiro nodded his head to one side and turned to pour himself a cup of the amber liquid.  “I had my doubts.  With Cesare on board, I knew you’d be a little restless.”

   “That’s an understatement.”  She set her cup down on the kitchen table.  “I’ll probably crash later, but I can’t let myself sleep yet.”  She looked up at him.  “Don’t drink that on an empty stomach.”

   Shiro lowered the cup.  “Why not?”

   “It’ll destroy your appetite.”  She gave him a funny look.  “Don’t tell me you’ve never substituted coffee for real food.”

   He snorted and lifted the cup again.  “I wasn’t really worried about that.  I wasn’t in the mood for food goo anyway.”

   Filomena harrumphed and stood upright, and made her way across the kitchen.  “It’s a good thing we have better things to eat, then.”  She lowered the oven door, and Shiro was hit with a hot wave of sugar crystals and cinnamon.

   The black paladin leaned over to look into the oven.  “It smells wonderful.”

   The young woman giggled and reached past him.  “Watch your head.”  She pulled out a pan full of tube-shaped pastries, perfectly golden-brown in color.

   “Are those cannoli?” Shiro asked with a disbelieving laugh.

   Miela made an affirmative sound and turned to set the pan on the counter top.  Shiro reached for one, and she popped the back of his hand with a noise of protest.  “Don’t touch.  They disintegrate when they’re hot.  These aren’t your standard Earth-made cannoli.  I had to make do with alternate ingredients.”

   Shiro rubbed the back of his left hand.  “How are you supposed to eat them, then?”

   “They need to cool,” she answered.  She crossed the kitchen in four steps and pulled open the walk-in cooler.

   “And am I lucky enough that you made an earlier batch?”  Shiro propped his elbows on the counter, hovering longingly over the tray of hot pastries.

   “You might be.”  She gave him a teasing grin and pulled out another, smaller tray.  On it were six more cannoli, each piped full with a shimmering mound of gold- _gold!_ \- filling, and topped with fresh berries in a rainbow of colors.

   Shiro’s eyes went wide.  They were the most beautiful things he had ever seen come out of that oven, and Hunk had done an excellent job leading up to them.

   The corner of Filomena’s mouth drew up in an expression Shiro finally recognized as coy.  She jerked her head at him.  “Bring your coffee over here.”

   He raised his eyebrows at her and obeyed.  The feeling of guilt was fading; maybe his faux pas wasn’t so important after all.  He set his cup down next to hers and slid onto the bench, facing the door. 

   She slid the tray across the table in front of him, and then slowly slid in next to him.  After careful consideration, she shifted into him until her right hip met his left.  It was the right move.  She heard him sigh, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed.

   “I’m s-”

   “Don’t.”  She folded her hands on the table.  “Don’t apologize.”  She turned a gentle smile toward him.  “You did what needed to be done.  It kept the mission rolling, kept the focus where it needed to be.”

   He focused his eyes on hers.  He was looking for the disappointment, for the pain or confusion or anger he had seen less than an hour ago in Pidge.  Where was it?

   She let out a voiceless laugh, her lips parting to reveal her straight teeth.  “You look so confused.”  She shook her head.

   “After the earful I got from Pidge, I’m pretty sure I have a right to be.”

   “Can I tell you something?” she asked.

   “Anything.”

   “It’s cute.”

   His confused look deepened, and she sputtered and started laughing, a high-pitched titter that still sounded like she was trying to be quiet.

   Shiro scoffed, deep in his throat, and the tension melted.  He turned his shoulders into her and met her lips in the middle of a laugh.  It startled her, breaking her voice into low little giggles, until she settled comfortably into his embrace.

   When the natural duration of the kiss ran out, and they gently separated, Shiro bent his forehead against hers and smiled.  “Thanks,” he whispered.  “I needed that.”

   “My pleasure.”  She gave him a playful shove.  “Now, you need something to sustain you.  Kisses won’t get you through the day.”

   “Are you sure?” he asked.  “Because those kisses just restored about ten years to my life.”

   She tittered again.  “We’ll have to see about that.”  She gestured to the tray.  “Tell me what you think.”

   Shiro picked up one of the cannoli and studied it.  “You’d better be glad I’m secure in my masculinity.”

   She made an amused noise and put her chin in one hand.  “A rare trait in the American male.”

   He smiled and nodded.  “It takes a real man to eat a cannoli.”

   “I must add that phrase to my list.”

   “You can tell Cesare that when he’s old enough to appreciate it.”

   She laughed again, and he leaned in and took a messy bite of the pastry.  The shimmering center was surprisingly creamy, with the sweet crunch of turbinado sugar, and was dotted with bursts of bright berry flavors.  “Holy crow, this is fantastic,” he breathed, and went in for another, even bigger bite.  He licked his mouth and looked at Filomena.  “Tell me you’ve had one of these.”

   “Several.”  She scratched the short patch of hair at her temple.  “I might admit to a low level of stress-eating.”

   “Who can blame you?”  He slid the last bite of the cannoli into his mouth.  Then he turned to smile at her.  “But Cesare will probably wake up sometime today.”

   Filomena looked down at her hands.  “I hope so.  It’s the waiting I hate.”

   Shiro nodded and picked up a second cannoli.  “Pidge said something to that effect.  What did Allura have you doing all night?”

   “While you were sleeping?”  She scoffed gently.  “The princess wanted me to help her test out the gadgets in the workshop.  Apparently some of them haven’t been touched in ten thousand years.”  She snickered.  “We wound up sitting in the floor repairing her jewelry and having girl talk.  You didn’t miss much.”

   Shiro paused before biting into the pastry.  “More than I’d like.”

   “Is that why you hid it?” she asked gently.  “Because you didn’t want to miss anything?”

   The black paladin studied the half-eaten cannoli for a moment.  “Maybe that was it,” he murmured.  He licked the corners of his mouth.  “I know how quickly good things can end.  It might’ve been selfish of me, but I just wanted to spend my last waking moments with the people I care about.”  

   Filomena watched him finish off the second cannoli, and then smiled as he licked each finger.  “That’s not so selfish,” she whispered.  She slid her hand into his.  “However,” she enunciated carefully, “I think I can safely speak for everyone when I say we want more of those moments from you.”  She played the tips of her fingers along the calluses on the inside of his hand.  “Just tell them what you told me.”

   Shiro hung his head.  “I got a little defensive with Pidge.  I should apologize.”

   “Perhaps.  She’ll understand, I’m sure.”

   He heaved a soft laugh.  “You have a lot of faith in her.”

   “And shouldn’t I?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing up in amusement.  “In spite of finding the monastery and arguing against my returning to Aepsis, she was the one who sacrificed her health _specifically_ to rescue my son.”  Her expression relaxed.  “Perhaps you are the one who needs to have faith, Takashi.”

   He turned to look at her, and she angled her eyes down at the far corner of his mouth.  She smirked and pointed at a dot of yellow cream.  “You missed a spot.”

   “Huh?  Where?”  Shiro raised his right hand to wipe his mouth, but missed, smearing the little dot farther across his face.

   Filomena slid one leg under her and pivoted to face him, and then rose and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, where she had seen the cream.

   It just wasn’t fair, how she could tease him like that.  Behind the contour of her soft lips, he could feel the barrier of her teeth; and beyond that, her tongue…  Her teeth parted, and it emerged to dab gently along the line of his lower lip.

   He couldn’t stand it.  Shiro made a little sound in his throat and wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her in so that their chests were flush and he could kiss her like he really wanted.  His heart was racing again; was he trying to slow it down or spur it onward?  Maybe Pidge was right.  Maybe he cared a little too much to be completely objective.  Or maybe…  Quiznak, she was distracting.  Her hands were in his hair again.

   Shiro hummed and reluctantly broke away.  “I’m sorry,” he breathed.  He cleared his throat.  “I got carried away.”

   She giggled and pecked him on the mouth again.  “Maybe I shouldn't provoke you, then.”

   He smiled.  “If you did that on purpose, then I’m in really big trouble.”

   Filomena’s expression went a little sad, and she looked away.  “I…I guess I did mean to.”  She sat back down next to him and circled her fingers around her ear.  “I’m sorry.  It’s been a long time since I… did something like that.”

   Shiro cocked one eyebrow at her.  “You mean…seducing someone?”

   Filomena’s face went red, and her shoulders bunched up around her ears.  “I…I guess?  I mean, we haven’t… y-you don’t…”  She coughed nervously.

   “What’s wrong?” Shiro asked.

   Filomena studied him for three ticks, and then sighed.  “In college, I was known for being very good at… I was good at that.  Before I settled down with my ex, I mean.”  She folded her hands in her lap.  “O-one of my… my suitors; the one who taught me to do… whatever you call this…”  She opened her right hand and showed him her palm to indicate her ability.  “He became obsessed, and eventually he tried to kill me.”

   That little tidbit made Shiro’s jaw drop.  “He… He _what_?”

   “Yeah.”  She laughed humorlessly.  “I pretty much swore off the art of the tease after that.  And after I left my ex… romance on the whole.”  She knitted her fingers again.  “I… I shouldn’t do that anymore.  People get hurt when I do that.”

   Shiro sighed and rubbed her back.  “That was a long time ago, Filomena.”  He leaned in front of her to tease her lips with his own.  He meted out his affection drop by drop; pulled her in on the heat of his breath and fed her little tastes of the passion she so desired, until she yearned toward him every time he got a millimeter too close.  “And if you think you’re the only one who can _finesse_ a coupling, you are badly mistaken.”

   Filomena harrumphed to try to cover the heat in her cheeks.  “We’re going to get caught.”

   “You’re just realizing that now?” Shiro asked laughingly.

   She cut her eyes up at him. “I’m not _that_ oblivious,” she retorted.  Then she sighed.  “I just… I don’t want to treat you like that.  Like a…”  She stopped.

   Shiro sighed.  “Like a conquest.”

   Filomena lowered her chin to her chest.  “Yes.”  The word came out excruciatingly softly.

   He smiled at her.  “The fact that you’ve considered that angle tells me that you respect me, and you care about my feelings.”  He combed his fingers through the ends of her hair.  “We’re taking it pretty slow, and you’re being honest with me.  If there’s something you’re not comfortable with, you can tell me.”

   She looked at her lap and forced a tight smile.  “I guess, even after all this time, I’m not really sure I’m comfortable with the real me.”

   “That happens to be something you make up as you go along,” Shiro said gently.  “I should be offended that you think I can’t handle it.”

   She rolled her eyes.  “Don’t tempt me.  If you make it a contest, I will make sure you don’t get up from this table for the next ten minutes.”

   “Is that a threat?”

   She gave him an amused look and studied him for a few ticks.  “You’re really trying, aren’t you?  You really want to see what I’m capable of.”

   Shiro nodded.  “Yeah.”

   Finally, Filomena relented and smiled.  “Fine.”  She ran her hand up over his chest and around to cup the back of his head.  “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

   “I won’t.”  He kissed her sweetly.  Then he sat back and picked up a third cannoli.  “So go ahead.  Do your worst.”

   She hummed thoughtfully.  Two ticks later, she pushed herself up on her knee and kissed the spot under his left ear.  “By the way,” she murmured, “I’m not criticizing your preferences, but if it were me, I think you and I could come up with better ways to spend your _last waking moments_.”  

   Shiro stopped, mouth still open to receive the cannoli, and looked at her.  He flashed back on the memory of falling asleep with his head in her lap, and then even farther back to the feeling of their bodies pressed together in his bed.  Apparently, he could think of a few better ways, too.

   But Filomena just smiled and patted his shoulder, and got up to leave.  “That’s me being delicate.  Enjoy your cannoli.”  

   Obviously letting the man’s imagination run wild was a key point in the art of the tease.  Shiro set the cannoli back on the tray and looked at his watch.  Ten minutes was a long way away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Shiro! It really has been a long, long year for him.


	66. “Bad Habit” - The Kooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets two different points of view

   It took Shiro a little more than ten minutes to get his emotions back under control, during which time he was able to peacefully finish his coffee and one more cannoli.  Even so, his rule over those feelings was anything but sovereign.  When he finally got up from the table, he was hit with a flash; an image of Filomena and himself, conjured out of nowhere; and he had to seriously consider whether or not it would be a good idea to stay seated for a few more minutes.

   But the flash was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, and Shiro rubbed his head wearily and decided to try and move on with his day.  He put the remaining cannoli back into the cooler and put away his coffee cup.  It was still early, but maybe someone else besides him and the object of his desires was awake.

   His first stop on his walk through the castle was the sleep chamber.  Matik was up and drinking a cup of renner nut brew in between brief conversations with the other aliens with whom she had come aboard.  Shiro hailed her with a wave of his hand, and she excused herself and meandered over to him.

   “Did you have a change of heart, black paladin?” she asked.

   He laughed under his breath.  “Please, it’s just Shiro.”

   Matik harrumphed.  “Shiro, then.  You’ve dodged my question.”

   Shiro smirked at her mild tactlessness.  “I might take you up on it later.  I met with Filomena a few minutes ago, and she helped me organize my thoughts a little.”

   The Grey shrugged and put her coffee to her lips.  “She’s pretty good at it.  She’s definitely gentler than me.”  She turned to stand at his side and looked across the room.  “We had a few close calls last night.  The yellow one was quite helpful.  I can’t say the same for the red one.”

   Shiro glanced down at her.  “Keith?” he asked.

   “If that is his name,” she muttered.  “He tried to help, on and off, but he couldn’t focus.  He was too worried about you.”

   “Do you know if he’s awake?”

   “I have no idea.  I guess he could be.”  She took another sip from her mug.  “Even I had to take a break.  He was gone when I woke up.”

   Shiro smirked.  “I can think of a couple places he could be.  What about Hunk and Pidge?”

   Matik hummed.  “Asleep, I think.  The green one spent barely a varga in the replenisher, so she’s probably still tired.  The yellow one left just after I woke up, so he probably needed some sleep too.”

   One of the pod doors opened, and a long, insect-like alien wobbled out.

   The medic made a noise in her throat and handed her cup to Shiro.  “That’s my cue.  Go make right with your teammates.  I’ve got other work to do.”

   “Yes, ma’am.”

   “Bah!” she waved her arms dismissively at him, as if the honorific flustered her.  “Get on with it, black paladin.”

   Shiro smirked and watched her go, and stood a moment, surveying the room; it was still overfilled, and all of the pods were full, but it wouldn’t be long before all of them were healthy again.  Then they would _all_ return to their homes.

   Filomena.  He was hit with another flash; him kissing her in the training room, hearing her whisper his name…

   He growled and shook his head again.  He needed to focus.  There was still a lot to do.

   He found Keith pretty much where he had expected; slashing away at the gladiator on the training deck, on a level much too high to be safe.  At this hour on any normal day, the red paladin would be refreshed and quick-thinking.  But today was not a normal day.  Right now his movements were vicious and feral, but a touch too slow.  He had probably been fighting like this for vargas.

   Shiro stood back until Keith noticed him and looked up.  His eyes were tired and frustrated, and had a new bruise on his cheekbone.

   “End training sequence,” he snarled.  The gladiator fell still, and Keith put away his bayard and began the long march back toward Shiro.

   “How long have you been up here?”

   Keith didn’t answer.  He just pursed his lips and kept walking.

   “Two hours?  Three?”  Shiro’s expression softened.  Keith might be happy he was alive, but it was perfectly acceptable that the red paladin would also be furious with him.  “Four?”

   Keith’s mouth twitched.  

   Shiro nodded in understanding.  “Four hours.”

   The boy gave a low growl and brushed past Shiro.

   “Keith…”  Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

   He saw his shoulders shift, and instinctively stepped backward as Keith aimed a kick at his ribs.

   “Don’t _touch_ me!”  The first kick had power and decent aim, but it drained the rest of his energy.  His second kick missed the outside of Shiro’s knee, and Keith lost his balance and toppled to the floor.

   “Keith, you’re exhausted.”

   “Don’t do that!” Keith snapped.  He pushed himself up again, wobbling to his feet.  “Don’t think you can just read my thoughts and pretend that saying sorry is going to fix anything!”  He aimed a punch at Shiro’s face, which the black paladin easily dodged.

   “I’m not going to let you hit me, Keith.”

   “Shut up!”

   The red paladin aimed a heel kick at his mentor’s solar plexus, which Shiro skillfully caught under his right arm.  With Keith off-balance, Shiro took the front of his shirt in his left hand and pushed him.  The boy let out a wavering sound that ended in a high-pitched gasp as he landed hard on his back, with Shiro pinning him to the floor.

   Something wasn’t right.  Keith was clawing at Shiro’s left arm with both hands, fighting his weight and heaving sharp, shallow breaths.  

   Shiro wasn’t pinning him that hard.  He looked down at their hands, at Keith’s chest.  His grip on the red paladin’s shirt had tugged the hem out of his jeans, exposing the skin on his torso.  An ugly purple bruise peeked out from under his shirt and trailed from his ribs all the way to his hip bone.  The black paladin took in a breath.  “Keith?”

   The red paladin aimed a defiant glare at Shiro, but the words that came out were dry and choked.  “G-get off.”

   Shiro let go and took a step backward, but Keith made no move to kick at him again.  Instead, he rolled onto his side, nursing the bruises with his left hand, and struggled onto his knees.  His breathing sounded bad; shallow wheezing, interrupted by weak coughing.  Shiro already knew what that meant.

   He sighed and took the two steps over to the boy, then bent and took his arm.

   Keith shook him off.  “I said don’t touch me,” he gasped.

   Shiro grabbed him again, harder this time, and pulled.  “Lie on your back,” he ordered, making sure his tone brooked no argument.  

   Keith reluctantly allowed Shiro to roll him onto his back, but fought him when Shiro tugged at the hem of his shirt to see the damage.  “S-Shiro…”  He lifted his head.

   The black paladin released Keith’s shirt and pushed his head back.  “Down,” he commanded.  “Deep breaths.”

   “H-hurts.”  He blinked back tears and tried to take a deeper breath.

   “I’ll bet it does.”  Shiro placed Keith’s right arm across his chest and walked his fingers down his ribcage.  “You’ve broken…”  He counted under his breath.  “…three ribs.”  He dropped the red paladin’s arm, sat back on his heels, and wagged a finger at Keith.  “You’re not allowed to be mad at me anymore.  Apparently I’m not the only one who hides things.”

   Keith groaned and rubbed his eyes with his left hand.  “I didn’t hide it.  I told you I broke my ribs.”

   Shiro nodded.  “Uh-huh.  But you failed to mention those gorgeous bruises.”  He raised an eyebrow at Keith.  “And apparently how badly you’re holding up.”

   “Oh, please,” Keith groaned.  “It’s just because I landed on it.”  He slowly, painstakingly pushed himself upright.  “You know there’s nothing anyone can do, and there’s a long line for the sleep chamber, anyway.”

   Shiro sighed and nodded.  Keith was right.  “You could at least sleep.”

   Keith shook his head and looked up at Shiro from under his waves of dark hair.  “I needed to know you were okay.”

   Shiro chuckled.  “And apparently throw a few punches my way.”

   The red paladin snorted, and then nodded.  “You’re right.  I can’t be mad at you.  Not anymore.”  He sighed and combed his fingers through his hair.  “Why?” he finally asked.  “If it were just us, you would have said something.  You might’ve pushed yourself, but I can’t complain about that.  _I_ do that.  But you wouldn’t have hidden it; you wouldn’t have waited to go into a pod, and you wouldn’t…  You wouldn’t…”  Keith stopped as he realized he was getting frustrated again.  He blinked, and then swallowed.  “Just… why?”

   Shiro sighed and sat down, propping his arms on his knees.  He thought about it.  Really thought about it.  Why was it so much easier with Keith, when a five-minute shouting match with Pidge left him feeling like the vulnerable one?  “I’m still having trouble understanding it.  It seems like the moment I realized Filomena was keeping something from us, I’ve been trying to pry whatever it was out of her, so we could all see it.  So we could trust her.  And now that we know… now that _I_ know, there was just one more thing I needed to see, and I couldn’t do it from inside a pod.”

   Keith looked over at him.  “What?”

   Shiro knitted his fingers and studied his hands.  “I wanted to see her happy.  Not the mask she’s been putting on for us.  I wanted to see the real thing, because I think… I think I forgot what it was supposed to look like.”  It was partly the truth, so Shiro felt halfway satisfied with that answer, but there was still something left nagging at him; something he didn’t want to give voice to yet.

   Keith’s eyes widened for a moment, but the look of surprise soon faded.  “She’s a lot like you, then,” he said.

   The black paladin smirked.  “I noticed.”  He sighed.  Maybe that was his problem, he thought; she was so much like him that he had started to blur the line between them.  He had definitely resisted at first, to the point that it had started to affect his grasp of who he was.  But now…

   The red paladin sighed and propped his arms on his knees.  “I guess if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” he murmured.

   The thought seemed to amuse Shiro, who began laughing under his breath.  “I’m still not sure that’s the best idea,” he admitted.

   “Allura might agree with you,” said Keith, “but it’s better than watching you and Miela butt heads constantly.”

   Shiro sighed.  “Maybe that’s what’s thrown me off.”

   “What’s that?”

   “There’s no in-between.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t think there ever was.”

   Keith harrumphed nervously.  “I’m not sure I’m the best person to talk to about that kind of stuff.  I mean, where Miela… I mean, _Filomena_ is concerned, you and I could be considered rivals.”

   Shiro couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.  “You mean, before you found out she was ten years older than you?”

   The red paladin shrugged.  “Well, it was shocking, but…”

   Shiro turned his head to look at him.  “What?  That wasn’t a deal-breaker?”

   Keith smirked, a little sadly.  “The deal-breaker was her saying ‘no,’ Shiro.  That was a full quintant before I found out how old she was.”

   The older man nodded approvingly.  “Very mature of you.”

   Keith harrumphed again.  “Makes me wonder what it took to turn Lance down.”

   “I’m going to try not to think about that.”

   Keith was quiet for a moment, and then he hummed thoughtfully.  “I think he might surprise you,” he said at last.  “When he talked to me about it, he was unhappy, sure, but… somehow she managed to let him down easy.”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows.  “That’s a very rare skill.”

   Keith snorted.  “Yeah, maybe he could take some tips from her playbook.”

   That got a nervous laugh out of Shiro.  “Like we need any more romantic drama aboard this ship.”  He rubbed his head.  “It’s borderline unbearable now, and that’s with _me_ being one of the participating parties.”  He sighed.  “Granted, I started most of it.”

   “Believe me, we _all_ noticed.”

   The black paladin sighed and rubbed his head.  “I’m sorry, Keith.  If my head was screwed on right like I had thought, maybe none of this would have happened.”

   “Maybe,” the younger paladin conceded.  “But she’s affected everyone aboard.  It could’ve happened to any one of us.”  Then he bobbed his head to one side in consideration.  “Except Hunk, if you give Pidge’s theory any credence.”  He hauled himself to his feet with a strained groan.  “We probably got lucky that it was you who got involved.”  He turned to face Shiro as he began tucking his shirt back into the waistline of his jeans.

   A glint of metal caught Shiro’s eye, and he glanced down at the buckle on Keith’s belt.  That wasn’t the same one he had come aboard with.  It was silver, but it was engraved with the same v-shaped emblem from their armor.  

   Shiro cocked his head.  “Where’d you get that?”

   Keith hummed in question and followed Shiro’s gaze.  “Oh.  Um…  Miela gave it to me.”

   “She did?”

   Keith smirked and looked at him.  “Don’t get jealous or anything.  She’s been making things for everybody.”

   Shiro smiled.  That explained what she had been doing all night.  He laughed under his breath and repeated Filomena’s favorite phrase.  “Idle hands are the devil’s plaything.”

   The boy gave him a strange look.  “That’s exactly what she said.”  Then he shook his head and rolled his eyes.  “Ugh.  You two are weird.”  At Shiro’s laugh, he smiled.  “I think I might be able to sleep now, so I’m gonna catch a few winks.”

   “Get some rest.”

   Keith gave him a parting wave.  “I’ll be up in another couple vargas, so don’t do anything exciting without me.”

   “You got it.”


	67. “Trouble Sleeping” - Corinne Bailey Rae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro hits a wall with Allura

   He had been able to hold his focus throughout his conversation with Keith, so Shiro sat a moment longer on the floor of the training deck, trying to organize his thoughts.  It wasn’t as easy here, with the bright lights.  He preferred darkness, just so there wasn’t anything to distract him, but he didn’t feel right shutting himself in a dark room so early in the day, when there was far too much to do.

   He came back to that feeling he’d had that first day they brought Filomena aboard; the one that whispered that he shouldn’t like where this was going; and he sighed as he realized why he had felt that way.  

   Was he really going to let it go this far?  The little warning voice grumbled that yes, yes he would.  And farther, with little to no notice.

   Shiro groaned and rubbed his face.  “What is _wrong_ with me?” he mumbled.  

   He sighed and closed his eyes, and there she was.  He considered the image; it wasn’t as intimate this time, so he didn’t shake it away; the two of them dancing.  He’d wanted to touch her and didn’t; the one time when he had kept himself from crossing that line.  He could stand that.  But what puzzled him was that nagging guilt that really _should have_ been present in all those memories.  Where was it?

   It just felt good; indulgently, gratifyingly so, he thought.

   Maybe that’s what worried him.

   Shiro put his head in both hands and sighed, and then breathed a curse, just because he knew no one would hear.  He knew what this was, and he only knew what it was because he had never seen anything like it.

   He growled and shook his head, and tapped the heels of his hands repeatedly against his forehead in defiance.  No, he couldn’t give that four-letter word life.  There was too much at stake, between the two of them and in the war that was going on around them.  Filomena would understand… wouldn’t she?

   Enough.  He needed to do something else.  He needed a distraction from his distraction.  Shiro picked himself up and left the training deck, and sighed again as he realized he was just looking for trouble.

   He found Allura on the bridge, holding a cup of coffee and standing over her center console, studying her screens.  He stood in the doorway for a moment, waiting for something to happen, and she spoke up.

   “Are you quite done?” she asked.

   Shiro smirked.  The coffee had softened her tone.  If she had been any more tired, the phrase would have snapped a lot harder.  “You’ll have to be more specific,” he said, and took a few more steps into the room.

   She turned and looked at him.  On the low pedestal in front of her console, she and Shiro were almost at eye-level with each other, though Shiro was still a bit taller.  “Are you done trying to show off your masculinity?”

   Shiro gave her a resigned smile.  “If it was ever about that, Allura, then that would sting a lot more than it does.”

   She set down her cup and turned to face him, and a brilliant silver bib necklace winked at him from the bend in her throat.

   Shiro’s eyes immediately flicked to the new piece of jewelry, noting with some small fraction of jealousy that this must have been what Filomena made for her.  He caught himself and pushed his mind back on track, tuning in to Allura’s voice and forcing his eyes to meet hers again.

   “I don’t care what it was about,” the princess had just snapped.  

   Shiro nodded tiredly.  “Yes, you do.”

   The princess threw up her hands.  “All right, I do.”  She quickly folded her arms.  “But I _don’t_ care who she is, Shiro.  You need to tell us when something’s wrong.”

   “I understand.”

   Allura eyed him carefully for a moment longer, and then sighed and rubbed her eyes.  “Why do I suddenly doubt that?”  She paused for a moment with her hand still over her eyes.  “You said your relationship with Filomena was none of my business until it affected your judgement, and I conceded your point.”  She dropped her hand and looked at him.  “Well, now it has.  You have officially made it my business.”

   “Allura…”

   She interrupted him.  “You need to figure this out, Shiro, and with all due haste.  I don’t care what it takes.”  She sighed and shook her head again.  “I really didn’t want to sound like a spurned lover, but I can’t seem to find another way to put this.”  She folded her arm back against her chest and looked him in the eye.  “Don’t make me compete with her.”

   Something wrenched inside Shiro’s chest, but he knew he couldn’t let it show.  He nodded obediently.  “It won’t happen again.”

   “Good.”  She turned back around to face her console.  “We have work to do.”

   “What kind of work?” Shiro asked.

   Allura picked up her coffee cup again.  “Well, whenever Pidge wakes up, we’ll need to go through the slave ship’s logs to see if we can’t find a larger hub.  Hunk has provided for the prisoners…”  She trailed off as she remembered something.

   “Allura?”

   She hummed and looked at him.  “I don’t know if the slavers have been fed yet.”  Her gaze grew a little cold.  “Not that I mind, particularly, but it might be useful to talk to them.”

   Coran turned and looked up at her from his console in front of her.  “It might be wise to wait until the others are all awake,” he suggested.  “They all have different ways of dealing with hostile parties.”

   Allura sighed.  “That’s true,” she murmured.  “And I’m not sure whether or not to involve Filomena.”  She looked up at Shiro.

   “I can’t answer that, Princess,” the black paladin replied.

   She stared at him.

   He raised one eyebrow.  “What?”

   “That was a diplomatic answer.”  She turned to face him.  “I was asking your opinion.”

   Shiro sighed.  “This may be just my reflexes talking, but I would say no.  Don’t involve her until absolutely necessary.”  He looked at the floor.

   Allura was quiet for a moment.  “Did you know?” she asked.

   Shiro looked up at her.

   “About… about the baby.  About his father.”

   Shiro nodded.  “Yes.  That’s my main reason for not wanting to include her.”  He raised both hands and shrugged.  “Filomena has been traumatized enough.  Unless we find out new information, I would suggest we leave her out of our interrogations.”

   Allura looked at her console again.  “I expected more of a ruckus,” she admitted.

   “What do you mean?” Shiro asked.

   Coran was the one who answered.  “The slavers have been remarkably quiet,” he said.  “We expected some collective claustrophobia, but only two of them actually showed any resistance.”

   Allura pulled up the security screens from the holding cells.  “We put those two in stasis because they worked themselves up into such a frenzy.”  She harrumphed.  “Serves them right, if you ask me.”  Then she sighed and pulled two of the screens forward to examine.  “But these two…”  She indicated the two cells and their occupants with a wave of her hand.  “Neither of them have made a peep all night.”

   Shiro stepped forward to examine the two screens.  In one, a horned, turtle-like alien with a red carapace stalked forward and back across his cell, his footsteps thumping quietly along.  In the other, the Galra’s lanky, feline figure sat almost completely still.

   Allura indicated the unfamiliar alien with her left hand.  “Raxxan has run the gamut; pacing, sleeping, staring, looking around.”  Then she turned to the other screen.  “But Hayze sat down there against the wall and hasn’t moved all night.”

   The black paladin hummed thoughtfully.  “You’re right.  After your fight with Hayze, I figured he’d make a little more noise.”  He examined the screen a little more closely, and raised one eyebrow.  “He seems almost _relaxed_.  He’s at ease in that cell.”

   Allura lowered her chin.  “That doesn’t seem right at all; not considering the way he was fighting.”

   “How was that?”

   She looked up at him.  “Like Keith, kind of.  Vicious.  Unrelenting.  But faster and stronger.”  

   Shiro was hit with a wave of dread, then, and with it came a sequence of mental pictures he had no business imagining; the altercation between Filomena and Hayze that had led up to him attempting to dominate her.  He swallowed the emotion and shook his head, and then rubbed at a pinching feeling between his brows.

   Allura’s face twisted in worry.  “Are you all right?”

   “It’s nothing.”  The phrase came with a dismissive shake of his head.  “I just have a headache.”

   She hummed and looked up at the screen again.  “He’s definitely a very experienced fighter, but something’s off.  I expected something more feral from him once we came aboard.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes and studied the screen.  “He’s waiting for something.  Very patiently, I might add.”

   Allura groaned tiredly and lowered her shoulders.  “Feed them, if Hunk hasn’t already,” she commanded.  “We’ll see what they do, and decide where to go from there.”


	68. “Requiem: Out of the Deep” - John Rutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble is brewing

   Shiro met Hunk on his way to the holding cells.  The yellow paladin was out of uniform and pushing a hover-tray laden with food, water, and dishes.

   “Hey!  You’re awake!” Shiro said in surprise.

   Hunk harrumphed and smirked at him.  “I should be saying that to you.  How are you feeling?”

   “Better.  After a long night’s sleep and some of Filomena’s cannoli, I can’t really complain.”  He looked over at Hunk.  “Did you try one?”

   “One?” Hunk scoffed.  “Between the two of us, I’m sure we ate a dozen or so.”

   The black paladin’s eyebrows went up.  That would have to have been prior to his awakening.  “You didn’t sleep?” he asked.

   Hunk shook his head.  “Not really.  I tried, but… well, you know.  There’s too much anxiety in the air.  After last night, I shouldn’t be surprised, though.”  He shrugged.  “I’m sure everyone will sleep better tonight.”

   “I hope so.”  He thought back to the tired eyes of all the people he had come into contact with this morning.  Keith was an absolute mess, Allura was holding herself together, and Filomena… Shiro honestly wasn’t sure how she was doing.  He knew she had stayed awake all night, but beyond that, she looked and acted relatively refreshed.  That couldn’t be right.  If Pidge was right, then the woman was pushing herself as much as Keith had.  He made a mental note to check on her later.

   “You on your way to check on the slavers?”

   Shiro hummed.  “Princess’ orders.”

   “Oh, so you weren’t curious?”

   The black paladin smirked.  “Well, maybe a little.  Why?  Did something interesting happen?”

   “Not yet.”  Hunk let out a tired sigh.  “Then again, the idea of ‘interesting’ anything has started to make me tired.”

   “I’m starting to understand that feeling.”

   Hunk spooned food goo and poured water for each of the slavers, while Shiro slid the plates through the low slots in each cell door, one at a time.  It was a chore; menial, and requiring little thought.  In that way, it was kind of nice.  The two paladins could do something relaxed and mostly uninteresting.

   Mostly.

   Shiro and Hunk were making their way down the line of cells, door by door, plate by plate.  They were almost at the end of their errand, Shiro down on one knee to deliver one of the final plates, when a small sound made him look back.

   It was the sound of a metal plate skidding across the floor.  It was still full, the food and water completely untouched.

   The two paladins looked at each other, and then Hunk turned and walked back to the plate.  He stooped and pushed the plate back under the door, and only a few ticks later, it clattered out again.

   Hunk sighed and pushed open the slot.  “Look,” he said into the door.  “I get that you’re not happy to be in there, but you need to eat.  Or, if you’re not going to eat, you at least need to stay hydrated.”  He pushed the plate under the door again, but this time it met resistance.  Something was blocking its entry; a hand, perhaps.  “Oh, come on!” Hunk growled.  “Now you’re just sulking!”  He stood up and folded his arms, and then looked at Shiro.

   The black paladin sighed tiredly.  Something was telling him he knew exactly whose cell that was.  He got up and walked back over to where Hunk stood, and looked at the door.

   “What is all this about?” Hunk muttered.

   “I don’t know,” said Shiro, in a tone that said he had every intention of finding out.  He knelt and pushed open the feeding slot.  

   Nothing happened.  Nothing was said for a few tense ticks.  Then Shiro bent down close to the opening.  “You have my attention,” he said, softly and clearly.

   The cell was silent for a moment longer.  Then, very quietly, a single word echoed out from inside.

   “Filomena.”

   Shiro dropped the slot door like it was hot, and then straightened.

   Then Hunk expressed the very thoughts that Shiro was too scared to voice.  “He… he calls her by her real name.”

   But it was the way Hayze had done it that really frightened Shiro.  That name on his voice was as smooth and warm as satin; each syllable uttered with something careful and deliberate… something _reverent_.

   The black paladin backed away and got to his feet.  He could have written the encounter off as the scheme of a desperate psychopath, or the ravings of someone who might slowly be going insane, but something told Shiro that there was more to this situation than he really wanted to comprehend.

   Hunk looked at the older man.  “Shiro?”

   “We need to tell Allura,” Shiro said without looking at him.

   “What about Miela?”

   Shiro glanced at him, and the stress was visible in his gaze.  “We don’t have anything worth telling her, yet.”  He looked at the door once more.  “I was going to try to keep her out of this as much as I could, but…”  He sighed.  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”


	69. “Welcome to Mystery” - Plain White T’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro tries to come up with a plan. It doesn't go over well with Hunk or Allura.

   “I thought we had agreed not to converse with the slavers,” Allura said, although her indignation was a bit too forced to be genuine.

   “I think the word of choice was ‘interrogate’,” Shiro corrected. “But someone made it abundantly clear that he wanted to talk to us.”

   The princess folded her arms. “He has an interesting choice of words, if that is his intent.”

   Shiro shrugged. “You said it yourself, princess; something’s not right.” He shook his head. “I don’t like this at all. I didn’t want to involve her, and my first thought was that she was the only thing on his mind.”

   Allura’s expression saddened. “We may not have much choice.”

   Hunk sighed. “I can’t even imagine what that’s gonna be like,” he muttered.

   She looked at the yellow paladin. “What do you mean?”

   The expression on his face made it clear he was shocked she would even consider that course of action. “Think about it; her only interaction with the Galra species has been with one guy who has made her life miserable every day for four years, and before you ask, yes, I know I’m understating that a lot. That’s heavy stuff even for us.” He looked at Shiro. “You can’t just ask her to sit down and parley with him like nothing’s happened.”

   “You don’t have to convince me,” said Shiro. He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Maybe we can introduce her to Kolivan or Antok…”

   “Ah, no,” Hunk interrupted him. “Kolivan’s a much more stable specimen, I’ll give you, but he’s super intimidating. And Antok has no filter at all. I can almost guarantee they’ll have Miela in a panic attack within moments of them meeting.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes at him, and then sighed because he knew Hunk was right. “Let’s take this another way, though,” he said thoughtfully. “Hayze could have said anything at all. He could have made a request, or taunted us, or… or anything. And he chose one word: her real name.”

   Allura stroked her chin thoughtfully. “He knew who I was, back on Aepsis. After ten thousand years, most people wouldn’t. He would have to be very well-connected, smart, and secretive.” Something behind her eyes lit up. “You… you mentioned Kolivan… Have you talked to The Blade of Marmora about how they would deal with Hayze?”

   Shiro shrugged. “Not yet.” He made a sound of surprise in his throat and leaned forward. “You don’t think he’s one of theirs, do you?”

   “What?” Allura asked.

   Hunk’s voice was almost a growl. “You’re kidding, right?”

   “I wish I were,” said Shiro.

   “But why?” Allura asked. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

   “It could be that he just can’t,” Shiro explained. “If he’s a splinter cell from The Blade of Marmora, then he might be under surveillance. He would have to be extremely discreet with any outside communication.” He sighed and looked down in thought. “There’s a story I heard back on Earth, about a man who got out of prison because he and his jailor had something in common.” He laughed humorlessly. “And Hayze said the one word that connects him to us.”

   The princess growled a little in her throat. “I’m tiring very quickly of all these secrets.”

   Hunk lowered both eyebrows. “Join the club.”

   Allura glanced up at him and sighed. “Hunk, why don’t you go find Filomena? Perhaps you can convince her to get some sleep while she still has time.”

   Hunk scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know, Allura. I’m not sure this is a good time for me to be talking to her. I know we said not to get her involved, but I don’t feel right keeping something like this from her, either. It’s a really bad position to be in.”

   “I have to agree with Hunk, here,” said Shiro. “If I’m right, and I really hope I’m not, then she’s going to be extremely upset.”

   “Then I suggest you keep this to yourselves,” Allura suggested flatly. “At least until we find out something more. The fact that Hayze said her name really shouldn’t mean anything at this point.”

   Shiro sighed and rubbed that pinching feeling between his brows again. “It shouldn’t.” He waved his hand in defeat. “Fine. I think we can keep this between us. Just don’t start the interrogations without us.” He looked up at Hunk. “I think Filomena’s in the workshop,” he said. “Can you at least check on her for me?”

   “Don’t tell me you’re avoiding her now,” the yellow paladin griped. “Did you have a falling-out already?”

   “Hunk.” Shiro let the smallest hint of a growl into his voice.

   “All right, fine, I’m going.” He withdrew from the room with a tired glare etched into his face.

   Allura watched him leave, and then looked at Shiro. “So, are you?” she asked.

   He turned to face her again. “Hm? Am I what?”

   “Avoiding her.”

   Shiro sighed. “You said you didn’t care what it took.”

   She lowered one eyebrow at him. “Yes, for you to regain control of your faculties. As much as I appreciate this level of dedication, I’m not sure it’s going to help you.”

   He narrowed his eyes, but his tone remained patient. “Oh? What do you suggest?”

   “I never said I had a suggestion,” she countered gracefully. “I’ve never been in your situation, Shiro. But if you want to continue down this road, perhaps you should share your plan with Filomena, so there aren’t too many bruised feelings between you.”

   Ever the diplomat, Shiro thought. He sighed, acknowledging that she might actually be right. He kicked himself for not considering Filomena’s feelings; if he had just started avoiding her, she would be hurt, wouldn’t she? She’d ask him what she had done wrong. That thought alone tore at him.

   Another flash passed in front of his eyes: Filomena sobbing against his chest.

   Shiro groaned and rubbed his eyes.

   “Shiro?” Allura asked.

   He shook his head at her again. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll talk to her.”

   The princess smiled gently. “You do that. Who knows? Maybe she’ll have a better idea.”

   That seemed pretty likely, all things considered.

   There were potential complications to this plan, though. First and foremost, would Shiro have the courage and wherewithal to make Filomena agree? If Shiro was going to talk to her, that conversation could go in almost any direction; he’d figured that out from their last encounter. They’d started casually… no, almost coolly; and before he knew what was happening, he was kissing her again, ready to tear away every boundary between them.

   This was a bad idea. Filomena could manipulate a situation to any whim. Shiro rubbed his face tiredly. And I had the stupid notion to challenge her.

   A faint smile crossed his lips. She likes a challenge. She’s competitive, which was the entire reason they had butted heads in the first place.

   Maybe he didn’t have to talk to her, but he also didn’t have to give her the cold shoulder. Nonverbal communication was still an option, wasn’t it? And since she liked the chase, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Shiro put a little distance between them. Wouldn’t it?

   That brought up a second potential complication; how long would Shiro be able to stand keeping her at arm’s length?


	70. “Without You” - Keith Urban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk and Miela discover something dangerous

   Hunk did as he was told, and meandered through the castle corridors to the workshop off the main hangar.  It wasn’t really that he disliked the prospect of talking to Miela again, but he hated this secret he had to keep from her.

   But when he thought about it, he realized Allura was probably right; that it might not mean anything at all, and to tell Miela anything at this point would do more harm than good.  

   He sighed and knocked on the workshop door.  “Miela?  Are you in there?”

   There was no immediate answer, so Hunk waited a moment before opening the door.

   Miela was sitting at the work bench, hunched over something small enough that Hunk had trouble figuring out what it was.  The woman sat up briefly, shook her head, rubbed her left eye, and stretched her neck.  That was when she saw Hunk, and turned her head to look at him.

   “Good morning!” she said.

   “Morning,” Hunk replied.  “You didn’t answer the door.”

   “Oh?”  She gave him an apologetic smile.  “I must have been lost in concentration.”

   Hunk smirked and entered the room.  “What are you working on?”

   Miela turned around again and looked down at the item in front of her.  “I’m not sure.”  She pointed at it as Hunk came and stood over her shoulder.

   It was a small silver square, no larger than Hunk’s thumbnail, and not much thicker.

   “It fell out of my collar while I was dismantling it,” Miela said.  She bent over the little thing again.  “It looks like a piece of technology, but even at this distance I can’t really tell.”  She stopped, sat up, and rubbed her left eye again.

   “Are you okay?”

   She shook her head.  “I’m fine.”  

   Hunk gave the back of her head a concerned pout.  She did the same thing Shiro did; dismissing concern when the rest of the team knew something was wrong.  He leaned over her shoulder.  “So, what are you trying to do?”

   She glanced at him and harrumphed.  “I was trying to figure out its function.  Whatever it is, Ta-… I mean… Shiro’s hand damaged it when he cut the collar off.”

   Hunk narrowed his eyes at her.  “We know who you’re talking about when you say his name.”

   Miela let out a sheepish laugh.  “Sorry.  Allura had no idea who I was talking about at first.”

   “She’s an alien.  She has an excuse.”

   “That’s fair.”  Miela shrugged, but that seemed to trigger another pause for an eye-rub.

   Hunk impatiently scooped the little device out of her hand.  “All right, gimme.”

   “Ah… Hey!  Be careful!”

   The yellow paladin brought the silver square up to eye level.  “You’re going to need magnification.”  He glanced over and touched a button on the console next to the work bench, and a small screen sprang to life in front of Hunk’s face, magnifying the area in which he was working.

   Miela rubbed her eye again.  “I’m seriously never going to get used to that.”

   “Alien technology has its perks.”  His smile faded a little as he focused on the little square.  “It’s not melted, so it wasn’t Shiro.  The triggering mechanism must just be faulty.”

   “How can you tell?”

   Hunk hummed thoughtfully.  “You said it was inside your collar?” he asked.  “Well, you’re not wearing your collar anymore.  If it’s not a tracking device, then it should’ve activated when it was removed.”

   The woman hummed thoughtfully, and then made a sudden sound in her throat.  “Oh!  I almost forgot.”

   Hunk looked up and followed her with his eyes as she crossed the room and returned with a silver spiral cupped between her hands.  “What is it?”

   She chuckled warmly.  “It’s an armband.”  She looked down at the hammered silver resting on her fingers.  “I had to estimate how big your arms are, so I hope it fits.”

   Hunk looked at the armband.  “F-for me?”  He gingerly took the piece from her and studied it.  The hammering pattern reminded him of a snake’s scales, almost; and a v-shaped emblem was embossed in the middle, and enameled in yellow.  “It’s beautiful!  You made this?”

   “Yes.”  She smiled and clasped her hands before her.

   Hunk smiled down at the armband, but seemed to remember something and looked up at her.  “Are you sure, Miela?  Shiro won’t be jealous, will he?”

   She waved him off.  “I have a gift for each of you.  He won’t be left out.”

   His smile was a little wider this time, and he carefully wrapped the band around his arm.  It was still warm, and it bent easily to adjust to the dips between each muscle.  And it fit.

   “It’s perfect.”  Hunk got up from the table and took the woman in a big hug.  “Thank you, Filomena.”

   She chuckled softly into his shoulder.  “I should be thanking you.  After all you and your team has done for me, I may never be able to stop.”

   Hunk let her out to arm’s length.  “I’m just waiting for when the baby wakes up.  That’ll be the best part to all of this.”

   She laughed under her breath.  “That’s why you’re a hero, Hunk.  You rescued my friends and me from slavery, and the most gratifying result for you is that my son wakes up _free_.”

   The big man wiped his eyes.  “Stop.  You’re gonna make me cry.”  He cleared his throat and turned to face the workbench.  “A-anyway.”  He picked up the silver square and readjusted the screen to a different height.

   “You’re not going to trigger it, are you?”

   He shook his head.  “I’d rather just take it apart.  Here, hand me that gouge.”

   Miela picked up the tiny, sharp-tipped implement and handed it to him.

   Hunk had taken the tool in hand and barely begun scratching at the surface when the little device began to emit a high-pitched whine.  “What the…?”

   The woman touched her hands to both ears for a moment, and then inhaled sharply.  “Hunk, drop it!”

   He glanced over his shoulder at her.  “Huh?”

   She lunged at him.  “Drop it now!”

   Hunk did drop it; not because she had commanded him to, but because she collided with him and knocked it out of his hand.  He grabbed for it twice on the way down, but couldn’t keep his balance against Filomena and properly catch the square.

   It hit the floor and bounced once, and was still.  Only a moment later, the whine began rising in pitch, and Miela curled into herself with a grimace and cupped her hands protectively over her ears.

   Hunk glanced at her.  “Miela!”  He looked up as the little silver square began to glow red.  That wasn’t a good sign.  He spun, eyes wide, and flung his arm around the woman.  “Get down!”

   There was a flash and a loud _bang_ as the chip exploded on the floor in front of them.

   Hunk sat up first and looked at the blast site.  The explosion had knocked them both down, but all that was left of the device was a scorch mark on the floor.

   Miela pushed herself up, still under the blanket-like warmth of Hunk’s massive arm.  “ _Che cazzo_!”

   At the moment, Hunk couldn’t bring himself to admonish her for her bad language. In fact, what he said next only repeated Miela’s astonishment.  “Holy quiznak!”  He looked at the woman next to him.  “Are you okay?”

   “ _M-merda_!  It exploded!”  She pressed both hands to her head and groaned.

   “Are- are you okay?  Did you hit your head?”

   She looked at her hands, and then clenched and released her fingers.  Then she looked up at him.  “I… I need to see Matik.”

   “Why?  Are you hurt?”

   “I’m not hurt, Hunk.”  Her expression relaxed a little, as if this was an issue she had dealt with before.  “But…”  She sighed.  “I have migraines.  My particular brand begin with vision loss.”

   Hunk’s face lit up in understanding.  “Ah!  That’s why you were rubbing your eye.”

   She nodded.  

   “Well, why didn’t you say so?”  He rose and pulled her to her feet.

   “I’ve been having migraines for ten years,” she answered.  “It’s not a big deal.  However… I’m starting to get dizzy.  Can you take me to see her?”

   “Yeah.  Yeah.”

   She wouldn’t let him carry her, so Hunk guided her back through the castle with one big hand on her back, keeping her from listing too far right or left.  Already Hunk could tell that she was drifting somewhere farther than he could reach; she stopped talking soon after that. 

   Aside from the knowledge that the migraine was probably getting worse, Hunk didn’t mind the silence.  It gave him time to think.

   He wasn’t sure if the silver square’s purpose was to explode or not, but there was a good chance that it spelled something dangerous for the rest of the slaves that had come aboard. His first thought was how many of the slaves were wearing collars.  His second was how to remove those collars without hurting the wearers.

   Whether it was intentional or not, Miela kept him from thinking too deeply on the subject.  Her balance was getting worse, as Hunk had to continue correcting her course.  Just when he thought he might have to disregard her wishes and carry her, he heard a voice from behind them.

   “Honey?”

   Filomena raised her head and slowly turned to look over her shoulder, but her eyes were bleary and unfocused.  “M-Ma…?”

   “Matik!” Hunk said.  “We were looking for you!”

   The Grey trotted up to them, the first time Hunk had ever seen her move with any real speed.  “How long has she been like this?”

   “I-I dunno.  She was rubbing her eyes when we met up.”

   “Has her transient aphasia set in?”

   “Her what?”

   Matik scoffed gently.  “During these episodes, she loses the ability to speak.”  She turned to Miela.  “Are you in pain yet?”  The woman shook her head, and Matik promptly reached up and flicked her fingers sharply against Miela’s forehead.  Filomena made a little noise of discomfort, but that was all.

   “Hey!” Hunk objected.

   Matik was undeterred.  “I _told_ you to find me if you started having an episode!  You _know_ how long it takes that medicine to work!”

   “I had… _p-pen_ …”

   Hunk cocked his head.  “Pen?”  But that wasn’t right.  What he had heard was something that, because of her aphasia, had failed to translate from Italian.

   Miela shook her head and tried to go on.  “ _Pens… Pensa…”_ After a few ticks of struggling, the phrase finally translated.  “I thought _…_ ”  Filomena rubbed her eyes, as if finding words was extremely difficult.

   “Save it.  I’ve heard your spiel before.”  She looked at Hunk.  “Pick her up and come with me.”

   “She didn’t want me to…”

   “Do I look like I care about her dignity right now?”

   Hunk lowered his eyebrows.  “I’m not so good at reading Grey facial expressions, but you never really look like you care about peoples’ dignity, least of all your own.”

   “You’re not wrong.”  She gestured at him with her one hand.  “Now come, I won’t repeat myself.”

   Matik led them into a lounge area nearby and shut the door.  On the low table in the center of the room, medical implements and bottles of substances unknown were strewn about, as if the Grey had yet to organize her items.

   “The green one was able to procure my effects,” said Matik.  “I hope her medicine is here, or she’s in for a very long afternoon.”  She pointed to one of the couches.  “Set her down there.”

   Hunk did as he was told.  Miela gave him a half-smirk, as if to say everything was going to be all right, and Matik was making a big to-do of nothing at all.  She probably was, Hunk reasoned, but it was better to let the medic play mother rather than make her worry about her friend.

   Matik made a noise in her throat and turned around.  She had a red bottle clutched under her left arm, and a plastid face mask in her right hand.

   “What is that stuff?” Hunk asked.

   “It’s an inhalant I distilled from the naiad eyes we found on Aepsis.”  She trotted over to them and placed the mask over Miela’s mouth and nose.  “There are only three ways I’ve found to relieve these episodes…”

   “Migraines,” Hunk said.

   “Fine.  Migraines,” Matik amended.  Then she went on, counting the fingers of her right hand.  “Massage: not commonly found on Aepsis.  Meditation: also not commonly found on Aepsis.  And drug-induced sleep.”

   “Let me guess which one was most common.”  Hunk said dryly.

   Matik shrugged.  “Honey has used those options as relief for years before I met her.  The drug was just all we had access to.  The distillation process separates the effects and leaves it without contraindications or unpleasant side effects, but it seems to take more time to set in.  Thankfully, her migraines are infrequent.”  She looked at the woman.

   “What causes them?” Hunk asked.

   “I don’t have enough information to derive causation.  But there is a correlation between physical duress and the frequency of her episodes.”  The Grey sighed.  “She’s tired, Hunk.  I suppose you can tell, can’t you?”

   “Yeah, I guess.”  He followed her gaze to the woman sitting in front of him.  “I never had migraines, so I guess it never occurred to me to wonder how they feel.”

   Matik folded her arms.  “It begins with spots in her vision; bits of white noise that obscure her picture of the world.  Then there’s tingling and numbness; first in one hand, and then it creeps up into her face, and then down into her other arm.  That’s when the aphasia begins; her tongue becomes heavy, goes numb, she slurs her words, and later she loses her entire vocabulary, just because the pain is so intense that she can’t remember how to talk.”  She swallowed.  “She told me once to imagine someone digging a gouge into the side of my head until even begging for mercy was no longer an option.  Her senses are intensified; light, sound, and smell are the worst for her.  The lights aren’t particularly blinding; they just make her hurt.  Odors make her sick, and noises above a certain pitch or volume make her dizzy and disoriented.”

   She paused, and Hunk stared at her while Matik chose her words.  It was so clear now that the direct, tactless Grey was haunted by the pain that surrounded her every day.  And Miela, one of the few who fought the pain willingly, tirelessly, was Matik’s favorite.

   The medic sighed.  “My species doesn’t weep, so let me make that clear first.”  She blinked and looked at the floor.  “The first time I ever saw Honey shed tears was when she was having a migraine.  Even then, she was trying so hard to hold it together.  She said crying made it worse.”  She shook her head.  “Female humans, as a general rule, have a greater pain tolerance than their male counterparts, and Filomena is one of the strongest individuals I know.  So when she weeps, know that she is in more pain, feels more joy, knows more love than you or I may ever experience.”

   Miela stared up at Matik with tears in her eyes.

   “Is it hurting?” Hunk asked.

   “No,” said Matik.  One corner of her mouth turned up.  “She’s smiling.  She says she loves me too.”

   Hunk sighed, and then allowed himself a little smile.  “Shiro’s a lucky guy, then.”

   Matik harrumphed.  “I hope he realizes that, and soon.”

   The yellow paladin looked at her.  “You don’t think he does?”

   “No.  Not yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, translations here:
> 
> "Che cazzo!" - "WTF!"  
> "Merda!" - Kinda obvious, this one refers to fecal matter. "Holy s***!"
> 
> Also, the phrase Miela was looking for during her aphasia is "Ho pensato," meaning "I had thought."


	71. “Tangled and Dark” - Bonnie Raitt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blade of Marmora has answers when it comes to other Galra, but their viewpoints on Filomena leave Shiro even more flustered. I.e., Kolivan is actually unhelpful, for once.

   Shiro sat outside the door to Hayze’s cell.

   The conversation he’d just had with The Blade of Marmora had not gone the way he had expected.  Kolivan had denied any knowledge of covert agents inside the intergalactic slave trade; their primary focus was dismantling the Galra Empire, after all.  He was a little more helpful when it came to advice, however.  He stuck firmly to The Blade of Marmora’s key principle of “knowledge or death,” and suggested that Hayze be held for questioning; the more helpful he was, the less likely his death became.

   But over the span of their discourse, Antok seemed to notice something troubling in Shiro, and had asked him rather bluntly if there was something else he might be keeping from them.  “He is a neutral party,” he said decisively.  “Why are you yet so interested in him?”

   “He might be the key to breaking up this end of the slave trade,” Shiro had said.

   Kolivan had acknowledged him with a slight dip of the head.  “That may be possible, but why bother with him at all?  You have their leader in hand.”

   “Hayze reached out to us willingly.  I figured we could use that.”

   Antok glanced down at Shiro through his mask.  “He said a single word to you, and you’re suddenly willing to listen to him?”  He folded his massive arms across his chest.

   “See, this is why I came to you for help,” Shiro said.  “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

   Kolivan hummed thoughtfully.  “And it would be the nature of that one word that bothers you.”

   Shiro sighed.  “Yes.”

   “A woman’s name; the name of your… _friend._ ”

   The black paladin looked at the floor.  “Yes.”

   Antok made a sound in his throat and dropped his hands to his sides.  “I see what this is,” he growled.  His tail flicked once, impatiently, and then he turned to look at Kolivan.  “Leader, the female in question has _besotted_ him!”

   Shiro looked up at Antok’s hulking figure from under his eyebrows.  “That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time,” he grumbled.

   “Need I explain it?” Antok asked, his tone clipped.

   Kolivan looked at his aide.  “No, I think not.”  Antok backed down, and Kolivan slowly returned his gaze to Shiro.  “You want to protect this individual; that much is clear.  But how much is kept from her may have to be her choice.  If she asks for the truth, grant it to her in full.”

   Antok stepped forward again.  “Have you claimed her?”

   Shiro was shocked by the question.  “I-I’m sorry, have I _what_?”

   Kolivan gracefully intervened.  “I’m not sure I have an equivalent term for other races,” he said.  “It’s a bonding that entitles one mate to the other’s protection; legally, financially, or physically.”

   Shiro looked from Kolivan to Antok and back again.  He definitely had a word for what the two of them were describing.  “N-no.”

   The Blade of Marmora’s leader narrowed his golden eyes.  “A claiming would mean a great deal in keeping her protected,” he said.  “Most Galra tend to be somewhat territorial with their claimed ones; it would create a sort of barrier between him and your potential mate.”

   Shiro lowered his gaze to the floor again.  “I… I see where this would be useful information, but…”

   “Are you against it?” Kolivan asked, without judgement.

   “Not… Not as an institution, no.”

   “Do you not want her, then?”

   Shiro gave him a tired look.  “It’s not that simple.”

   “It needn’t be complicated.”

   “I’ve known her for barely a week, a _nd_ she’ll be gone within another.”

   “How is that relevant?” Kolivan asked.  “You are only using that phrase to force yourself into believing your feelings are without merit, or that you would be better off without her.”  He narrowed his eyes at Shiro again.  “But you’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”

   Shiro was silent.

   Finally, Kolivan harrumphed softly.  “If you want her, then claim her.  If you don’t, then don’t.”

   Shiro stared at him for a few more ticks, and then sighed and looked at his feet.  He _did_ want her; all of her.  Her quirks, her fire, her scars.  And that troubled him.

   “Why do you hesitate?” Kolivan asked.

   Shiro let out a huff.  “It just feels like you and Princess Allura are telling me two different things.”

   “Are we?”  The shorter Galra cocked his head slightly.  

   That’s when it occurred to Shiro what Allura had actually said.  “Figure it out.”  He made a noise of understanding and looked at his shoes.

   Kolivan hummed.  “We have merely offered a solution to your problem.  If it interferes with your orders, then disregard it.”  He looked down at Shiro, noticed the troubled look on the man’s face, and sighed.  “For the most part, we Galra wear our scars with pride,” he said.  “They are the marks of events we have survived, as individuals and as a culture.”  He looked down in thought for a moment.  “This friend of yours… If I am correct, then she may very well leave a mark on you, even after so short a time.”

   He wasn’t wrong.  Shiro could already feel Filomena’s hand painstakingly etching her name across his heart.

   “The question for you, black paladin, is this;” said Kolivan, “would you rather live with a scar, or the regret of something unattempted?”

   He had no answer for that.

   After a moment, he heard Antok’s voice again, softer this time.  “Has _he_ claimed her?”

   Shiro thought about that for only a split second before vigorously shaking the thought out of his head and frantically waving his hands.  “All right, hold on just a tick.  First, I have no idea if a claiming is legal in inter-species relationships.  Second, I don’t know exactly what a claiming involves.”  He sighed.  “I… I’m not sure I want to know.”

   Kolivan looked momentarily puzzled at the black paladin’s embarrassment.  “It’s primarily bureaucratic, in more recent times,” he explained.  “I’m not certain we can- or _should_ \- apply the rules of its more primal origins.  I’m sure you understand.”

   That made Shiro feel somewhat better.  “I do.”  He looked up.  “Then no, I don’t think he’s claimed her.”  He stood up.  “Thank you for your advice.  I will let you know of our decision.”

   But instead of jumping right to the decision-making part, Shiro sat quietly in front of Hayze’s cell door and stared at the metal slab between them.  What if, by some ridiculously antiquated Galra law, Hayze had claimed Filomena?  While he was certain that The Blade of Marmora could quickly clear up that misunderstanding, the thought made his chest tighten.

   He moved across the hall and sat down against the door.  Then slowly, Shiro reached down again and lifted open the food slot.  He was quiet for… he wasn’t sure how long.  Finally, he chose to just continue their conversation.  

   “What about her?” he asked.

   Hayze’s voice was soft, resonant, and patient.  “Do you know how she got her nickname?”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes.  “The man you killed gave it to her.”

   “Donovan.”

   Shiro took in a breath.  That was definitely a human name.  Something about the fact that Hayze remembered the name of the man he had killed raised the tension in his shoulders.  “And?” he finally asked.

   Hayze went on.  “His daughter’s name referred to some… pollinating insect.”

   Shiro’s eyes widened a little.  “Honeybee.”

   There was a hum from inside.  “That was it.  _Devora_ , I think.”  

   His pronunciation was off, but Shiro recognized the name anyway.  He knew now that Hayze wanted to talk, but he could still feel the wrongness hanging over them, ready to collapse at any moment.

   The young Galra went quiet again, letting the weight settle over Shiro’s figure.  Finally, Shiro frowned.  “What do you want?” he asked.

   “Filomena,” Hayze’s voice repeated.

   He waited a moment longer, and then lowered the slot door.  He sat outside the cell until he couldn’t take being in one place any more, and then he sighed, rose, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you starting to wonder about Hayze? Or does this just creep you out even more? Either way, this is not a good sign.


	72. “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” - Sting and the Police

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro earns a stern lecture

   Talking with Hayze had been one of his less effective ideas, he admitted.  Instead of providing any sort of closure at all, it had left him with a hot, gnawing sensation in his chest.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before toward… well, toward anyone, so its name escaped him.

   His thoughts were abruptly cut off by a loud yawn coming from an intersecting corridor.  Shiro looked up.

   Lance had his lanky arms stretched high into the air.  He was fully dressed and awake, but as was frequently the case he looked as if he would much rather be asleep.  He glanced up at Shiro.  “Mornin’,” he grumbled.

   “Lance, you look awful!” Shiro intoned sympathetically.

   The boy rubbed his eyes.  “At some point, Shiro, you’re gonna have to accept the fact that you might be the _only_ one of us who slept last night.”

   “That’s a nice change of pace.”

   Lance grumbled in reply and fell into step beside the black paladin.  “I don’t get it,” he griped.  “You sleep, like, three hours a night, and you always look like you’re ready to roll.”

   Shiro shrugged.  “I don’t really get it either.  Where are you headed?”

   Lance sighed.  “I _was_ headed to the workshop to meet up with Hunk.”

   Shiro raised one eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder.  The workshop was in the other direction.  “You _were_?” he asked.

   “Yeah, he opened a channel a few minutes ago and told me something came up, and that I should meet him in the lounge instead.”

   “Is everything okay?”

   “Seems that way.”  Lance looked up at Shiro from under his eyebrows.  “If Hunk’s not worried, there’s not much to worry about.”

   “True.”  He looked over at Lance.  “How has your morning gone?”

   The boy groaned and slouched forward.  “I spent an hour getting shouted at by Keith, being bossed around by that mean old Grey lady, and helping your girlfriend make cannoli.”  He leaned suggestively toward Shiro.  “That was probably the highlight of my morning.”

   “Huh.”  Shiro cocked his head.  “I figured that would have been Hunk’s doing.”

   Lance stretched again.  “Nope.  Miela came up with the recipe on her own.  I just filled a couple dozen pastries.”

   The older man smirked.  “You’ve got another big tray cooling on the counter.”

   “The fresh ones?” Lance asked.  “Where’ve you been, man?  I’ve filled them two vargas ago.”

   Instinctively Shiro looked at his watch.  It was almost noon.  How long had he been just sitting there, acting like a glutton for punishment? 

   And speaking of deadly sins, another memory flashed across his vision: Filomena’s kisses in the kitchen, too many hours ago.  She had tasted of coffee and sugar, and smelled like fresh-baked heaven.

   He growled and rubbed his head.

   Lance looked at him.  “You okay?”

   Shiro realized then that he had actually made sound, and a brief expression of surprise crossed his face.  Then his face relaxed into that sad smile again.  “Everyone keeps asking me that,” he said.  “I’m fine, really.”

   The blue paladin stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.  “You think you hide it well, and you really don’t.”

   “Lance…”

   He cut Shiro off.  “Hey, don’t talk about it if you don’t want.  But seriously, just say so.  Don’t say you’re fine when you’re not.”

   Shiro smirked a little.  Lance didn’t seem angry; at least, not anymore.  The conclusion the blue paladin had come to was simply to state his case and move on.  The maturity of that decision surprised Shiro.  “Fair enough.”  He thought about this a little more before giving a little sigh.  “I guess… I don’t have words for the questions I have yet, and I’m not sure who the best person to talk to would be.”

   Lance hummed.  “Been there.”  He granted Shiro a real smile.  “And that was a much better answer.”

   The black paladin laughed under his breath.  “I’m glad you approve.”  

   Their destination was only a few steps away.  Shiro looked up into the lounge ahead of them, and stopped short.  Lance came up beside him and jerked himself to a halt in shock.

   Hunk was sitting on the long couch in the lounge, holding a medical mask in both hands.  Filomena was leaned against his shoulder, fast asleep with her hands folded serenely in her lap.

   The yellow paladin noticed the two of them in the doorway and raised a hand in greeting.

   Shiro quickly put his finger to his lips to silence any attempt Hunk might have had to call out to them, and the yellow paladin hesitated.

   There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, and Matik walked into their field of vision.  Her gaze caught Shiro with one finger pressed to his mouth, and her lips twitched upward into half a smile.  “You won’t wake her,” she said at a normal volume.

   Lance looked once at Shiro, then shrugged and said, “Well, this is me.”

   “Lance…”

   “Matik said we wouldn’t wake her.  I’m going in.”

   Shiro reluctantly followed the blue paladin into the room.  “Should I ask _why_ she won’t be waking up?” he asked.  He glanced at the mask in Hunk’s hands.

   “I gave her a light sedative,” Matik said.

   “Why?”

   Hunk looked up at him.  “She started having a migraine.”

   Shiro let out the breath he had unwittingly been holding.  That explained it.  “So she’s okay.”

   The Samoan young man nodded at him.  “She’s fine now.  She’s been asleep about a varga.  It was kinda spooky to watch it unfold, though.”

   Matik harrumphed in answer.  “You never told me what brought it on,” she said.

   Hunk understood that she was talking to him.  “Well, according to you, she was already in the initial stages when I met up with her,” he said.

   The medic waved impatiently at him.  “Yes, yes.  But scintillating scotoma can be reversed without going further into the migraine.  What triggered it?”

   “Um…”  Hunk scratched his eyebrow.  “She found a chip of some kind embedded in her collar, and she was trying to figure out what it was for.  I offered to help, but the second I touched it, it started making this high-pitched noise.  Miela kind of freaked out then, and I dropped it, and- _POW!_   It exploded, right there on the floor.”

   Shiro made a shocked noise in his throat.

   Hunk nodded and went on.  “Knocked us over.”  He looked at Matik.  “I thought she might’ve hit her head, but it might have just been the shockwave.”

   “Either is possible,” said Matik.

   “It exploded?” Lance asked, a little bit too loudly.

   Matik shushed him.  “You can talk, but do it softly.”  She bent and took the mask from Hunk.  “She’s in stage three sleep.  She _can_ be awoken.”  She pointed at each of the paladin’s faces in turn.  “But it had _better_ not be by you three.”

   Lance jerked backward at her admonishing glare, but Shiro just gave a little sigh and lowered his head.

   “That’s a little disappointing,” the black paladin said softly.  “I was hoping I could talk with her.”

   Matik turned her gaze on him.  “Her migraines come with transient aphasia.  She couldn’t have talked to you if she’d wanted.”

   Shiro nodded.  “I understand.  I’m familiar with that kind of migraine.”  He looked at the woman dozing against the yellow paladin’s arm.  “Although, you said she’s been asleep for over an hour.  Falling into a deep sleep typically acts as a hard reset.  If she were to wake up, she’d be lucid and fully-functioning.”

   Matik hummed and cocked her head.  “I appreciate the information.  That will not excuse you disrupting her sleep.”

   He laughed under his breath.  “I won’t.”

   “A-actually,” Hunk faltered, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she’s right on my rotator cuff.  My arm’s going numb.”

   The Grey folded her arms and growled under her breath.  “Fine.”  Then she hummed and looked up at Shiro.  “Why don’t you return her to her quarters?” she suggested.

   “Weren’t you _just_ telling us not to wake her?”

   “I’m sure one of you boys is strong enough to carry her,” Matik said.  “I never said she had to be awake.”

   Hunk looked up at Shiro.  “That’s probably a job for you, Shiro,” he said softly.

   Lance folded his arms.  “Hey, I’m pretty sure I can carry her.  She’s what, a buck twenty?  Thirty?”

   Shiro folded his arms.  “Thirty,” he decided.  “And it’s all muscle, believe me.”

   Hunk’s expression went flat.  “Honestly, I’m stronger than _all_ of you.  I can carry three of her.  That’s _not_ why I suggested Shiro take her.”  There was a moment of silence when all eyes turned to look at the black paladin.  Then Hunk eked out one more word.  “Unless…”

   Shiro looked at each of them in turn.  “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

   The yellow paladin’s expression became worried.  “Shiro… You’re not… You’re _not_ , are you?”

   Lance glanced up at their commanding officer, and then turned to look at Hunk.  “He’s not what?”  Then he looked back up at Shiro, who wore a slightly ashamed expression.  A light went on behind Lance’s eyes.  “Oh, quiznak.  You’re _avoiding_ her?  Why?”

   Shiro rolled his eyes.  “I’m not avoiding her.  I literally _just_ said I needed to talk to her.”

   Hunk frowned at him.  “I was there for that conversation, Shiro.  Remember?  I did ask if they’d had a fight, earlier.”

   “Did you?” Lance asked.

   “Guys,” Shiro insisted, “this isn’t an appropriate conversation for me to be having with you.”

   “Did she do something wrong?”  Lance asked.  

   “N-no, Lance, I…”

   “Did _you_?”

   The force of Lance’s question was enough to drive Shiro backward a step.  He recovered his footing and angled an assertive step forward again.  “Yes!” he snapped, a little too loudly.

   The room went quiet.

   Shiro heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, trying to hide the fact that they were watering.  “I… I screwed up.  I made a horrible mistake, and it nearly cost me my life.”  He shook his head.  “I wasn’t thinking… about you guys, or Allura, or Voltron, and _everyone’s_ let me know how badly I messed up.”  He blinked back tears.  “When I’m with her, it feels like she does all the thinking for both of us.  She’s so calm, so _smart_ , and I just… I got lost.”  He looked at the floor.  “In less than a week, I somehow _forgot_ all the qualities I _thought_ made me a decent leader… and maybe a decent human being.”

   Lance watched him for a few more ticks, and then walked the few slow steps over to where Filomena slept.  “You can’t blame her for that,” the blue paladin said, in a tone much too wise to be coming out of his mouth.  “You can’t blame her for what happened, how you think or don’t think.”  He turned around and knelt with his back to the woman, and jerked his head at Hunk.  

   Shiro sighed and looked at the floor again.

   “She’s not the cause of any of it.  You _know_ she’s not.”  Lance’s voice wavered.  He was getting upset; they could all tell.

   Hunk gently pushed the woman upright, and leaned her forward, carefully draping her arms over Lance’s shoulders.

   “I know,” said Shiro.  “But… I could blame myself.  I just needed some time to…”  His conviction petered out.

   “To figure out _why_ you’re doing this to yourself?  To her?” Lance finished for him.

   Hunk shushed them, and then went on a little more softly.  “He’s right, Shiro.  This option you’re considering is a slippery slope.”

   “See, this is why I wanted to talk to _her_!” Shiro said.

   “She would’ve agreed to it just to make you _happy_!” Lance snapped.

   Filomena nuzzled her face into the hood of Lance’s jacket and locked her arms around his neck, and went back to sleep.

   The blue paladin glanced over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken her.  “If I had to guess,” Lance continued slowly, “I’d say _Hayze_ has more to do with this than she does.”  He stood up, easily adjusting Filomena’s weight against his back.

   “What?” Shiro objected.  “Lance…”

   “Look, I’m not the smartest guy aboard the ship, all right?” Lance bit out.  “But I sure as quiznak know what _jealousy_ looks like.”  He shot a glare up at his leader.  “And the fact that you are jealous of that… _monster_ …  I… I just don’t know.”  He looked at the floor.

   Shiro shifted his gaze to Filomena’s sleeping face.  He should have taken the chance.  He could have carried her back to her room, and she would never have been the wiser.  The ache in his chest was growing stronger.  Kolivan would never know how right he was.  _Lance_ didn’t even know how right _he_ was.

   “You’re not a monster,” Lance murmured.  “Be thankful she’s not awake to see you trying to act like one.”

   And with that, Lance carried Filomena from the room.

   Shiro turned and looked down at Matik.  The Grey still had her arms folded over her chest.  “If you’re not going to accept my help, then leave,” she growled.

   Shiro left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a scanner that works. Pic here!  
> [Don't Wake Her](https://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Don-t-Wake-Her-700357451) by [Hotaruno](http://hotaruno.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  
> 


	73. “The Pink Panther Theme” - Henry Mancini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance pokes around the workshop.

   Lance didn’t stay angry for long.  It was part of his charm, Hunk thought, what little charm he actually had.  He might have a short fuse, but he didn’t let it interfere too badly in whatever he was doing.  And right now, he was carrying Filomena down the hall, humming some soft little tune Hunk didn’t recognize.  He supposed that it must be an attempt to keep her asleep, or to help him cool down after his argument with Shiro.  Either was possible.

   “Where are we going with her, Lance?” Hunk finally asked.

   The blue paladin shrugged.  “I figured we could take her back to the workshop.  When I saw her last, she mentioned that there was still some work there that needed doing.”

   Hunk cocked an eyebrow at him.  “She didn’t happen to… _give_ you something, did she?”

   Lance stopped and looked up, apparently pleased with the way this conversation was headed.  “Oh, yeah!  I didn’t even think about that!”  He picked one foot up and waggled it behind him.  “She made this really sweet anklet for me.”

   “Huh.  Mind if I…?”  Hunk pointed.

   “Nah, dude, go ahead.”

   Hunk reached down and took the cuff of Lance’s pant leg.  “You sure you can balance?”

   “I’m totally fine, Hunk.  It’s just like surfing.”

   The yellow paladin laughed under his breath.  “Should’ve figured you surfed.”  He tugged Lance’s pant leg up a few inches, until he could see skin.  Lance’s ankle was wrapped with two tiny silver chains, loose enough to allow movement.  A round, silver pendant was set between them, and was just heavy enough to dangle a bit when Lance lifted his foot.  The pendant was embossed with the symbol of their team, a shallow “V” shape, and lacquered in blue. 

   “Wow!” Hunk said.

   “I know, right?” Lance affirmed.  He put his foot down.  “I can’t wait to show it off when I hit the beaches again.”  He smiled and continued down the hall.  “Who knew she was so talented?”

   Hunk shrugged.  “After this past week, I can’t say I’m surprised.”  He lifted the sleeve of his tee shirt to show Lance the armband she had given him.

   “Dude, that’s so you.”

   “I totally dig it.  And did you _see_ what she made for Allura?”

   “That new necklace she was wearing?  She made that?”

   “Yeah, man!”

   Lance glanced over his shoulder at the woman.  “You’re pretty freakin’ awesome, _chica_ ,” he said.  “Just hope you know that.”

   Hunk seemed to think of something, and looked at the floor while they walked.

   “What’s up?” Lance asked.

   “I-I don’t really know,” Hunk said.  “She said she was making stuff for everybody.  I guess I’m kinda… I dunno.”

   Lance seemed to tune into his thoughts right as they reached the workshop door.  “Wait.  Don’t tell me.  You’re curious about what she’s made for Shiro.”

   Hunk shrugged sheepishly.  “Eh.  Yeah.  A little.”  He looked at Lance.  “Being curious isn’t really in my nature, so I guess I was a little ashamed to think about looking in everybody else’s gift boxes.”

   The blue paladin inhaled, and his grin got wider.  “There are _gift boxes_?” he asked.

   “No, not literal boxes.  I’m just sayin’.”

   “Oh.  I gotcha.”

   Lance carried Miela into the workshop and set her in a pile of cushions he found at the far end of the room.

   “She ought to be comfortable there,” Hunk said.

   “Great,” Lance breathed.  “Now, let’s find us some gift boxes.”

   Hunk’s eyes widened.  “Lance!”  The exclamation was said at a forced whisper.  “Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to open other people’s presents?”

   Lance scoffed.  “Are you kidding?  After my sister’s kids were born, I played Santa a _lot_.”  He shrugged.  “As long as I don’t actually unwrap anything, I’m safe.”

   “You’re horrible.”

   It wasn’t hard to find the old jewelry box.  It was a wooden antique covered in a deep brown stain and hinged to open at a seam in the middle.  Lance opened the box with both hands.  Inside was a pair of… he wasn’t sure what they were called.  Some French word he could never remember.  They were strings of silver chain that were soldered together on one end so that they dangled a couple inches.  He had seen old General Iverson wearing things like these on the crests of his shoulders.  “Must be for Coran,” he mumbled, and picked up the epaulettes to move them to the other side of the box.  “Shiro would never wear those.”

   As it happened, the gift Miela had put together for Coran had been part of a small pile of other jewelry.  Lance looked down at the rest of the pile and almost dropped what was in his hand.  He froze, stifling the gasp that had wanted to escape, and stared at what was left in the hollow of the box.

   This… This could complicate things.

   “Lance, are you sure about this?” Hunk asked.

   Lance wasn’t listening.  He was staring down into the box.

   “Lance?”  He made a move toward his friend.

   He was almost able to look over Lance’s shoulder when the blue paladin flipped the lid of the box closed.  “Well, I think I’m satisfied,” he said, a little too coolly.  He set the box back on the workbench.

   “What?” Hunk asked.  “What was in it?”

   “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

   Hunk shrugged.  “Well, you’ve already looked.  You might as well tell me.”

   Lance shoved his hands in his pockets and considered Hunk for a moment.  Then he shrugged.  “It was a lump of metal.”

   “Huh?”

   “Yeah.”  He cocked his head and turned on his heel toward the door.  “She must not be finished making his present yet.”

   The yellow paladin gave him a flat look.  “I’m not dense, Lance.  I can tell when you’re lying.”

   Lance pulled one hand out of his pocket and gestured back at the box.  “See for yourself, then.”  He smirked, knowing Hunk would never open the box, and resumed his casual exit.

   Hunk grumbled under his breath and followed Lance out into the hall.  Lance might not be so good at bluffing, but he was definitely good at calling out other people.  But all in all, he felt like the emotional thundercloud had lifted, and his friend seemed happier than before.  That made him a little suspicious, but he would rather Lance be smug and coy than to stay mad at Shiro.

   “What’s next on our to-do list?” Hunk asked with a tired sigh.

   “Head back to the bridge, see what Allura wants us to do.”  Lance shrugged.  “Maybe Pidge is awake, and we can hack the slave ship’s computers.”

   Hunk smiled wanly.  “Or maybe Keith’s up, and we can start the interrogations.”  Then he reconsidered.  “Or… maybe we should wait until things cool off with Shiro for that.”

   Lance grumbled under his breath.  “Don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” he growled.  “He’s fighting this so hard, you’d think he was mad at her.”  He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

   “He’s just trying to find a balancing point, Lance.  He’s trying to be the black paladin _and_ figure stuff out.”  The yellow paladin shrugged.  “It’s probably a lot harder than it looks.”

   “Figure stuff out?” Lance repeated thoughtfully.  “He’s having to ‘figure stuff out’?”  He stopped when the thought hit him, eyes wide.  “Holy quiznak.”  He spun to look at Hunk.  “Do you know what that means?”

   Hunk scratched his temple.  “That… Shiro’s in love?”

   Lance laughed out loud.  “He’s _in_ it?  Dude, he’s so deep in it he’s _drowning_!”  He turned and kept walking.  “This is _hysterical_!”

   Hunk gave him a flat look.  “You’re really just figuring this out?” he asked.  Then he gave Lance a worried look.  “And honestly, it looks pretty terrifying to the rest of us.”

   “Huh?  Why?”

   The larger man counted the reasons on his fingers.  “He’s more hotheaded, he goes off-script during missions, he’s easily distracted, and he worries about things a _whole_ lot more.”  He shrugged.  “It’s like all of the things that made it hard for us to form Voltron in the first place.”

   Lance studied him for a moment while they walked.  “You’re right.”  Lance looked at the floor ahead of him.  “And he’s so busy trying to be the guiding force of our team that… having a relationship with Miela is actually disruptive.”

   Hunk put his hands in his pockets.  “I guess that’s one more reason why Allura called her a ‘wild card’.”

   Lance just sighed and rolled his eyes.


	74. “Berceuse” - G. Jorissenne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word about the collar chips gets around, Keith has his first interaction with Cesare, and Allura has an idea to reorient Shiro.

   It was Pidge’s turn on rotation in the sleep chamber.  She alternated serving food and doing first aid, since the pods didn’t open very often.  Thankfully, most of the worse injuries had already been treated, and their owners ushered into the cryo-pods to sleep.  Pidge had gotten very little sleep, after her argument with Shiro, but she reasoned that she was just stressed, and would sleep better tonight.

   Still, every once in a while, she could feel herself nodding off between servings of food goo and water, bandages and painkillers.  To wake herself up, she stretched and pulled up the screen on the center console to check the time.  It was early afternoon.  No use going back to sleep now.

   “Hey, Pidge.”

   The girl looked up at the person who had said her name.  Keith was standing in the door.  “Hey,” she replied, and returned her focus to the screen.  “How’d you sleep?”

   Keith made a noncommittal noise and shrugged.  “Not great.”

   She harrumphed.  “At least it was something, right?”

   “I guess.”  The red paladin looked around at the crowd of aliens sitting in clumps around the chamber.  “How many more need the cryo-pods, do you think?” he asked.

   Pidge sighed tiredly.  “A _lot_.  I stopped counting after the first dozen or so.”  She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes.  “I need something to wake me up.”

   “There’s coffee,” Keith suggested.  “Apparently really good stuff, too.”

   She snorted.  “The problem with renner nut coffee is that it doesn’t have caffeine.  I’ll still be fighting to stay awake.”

   “Why don’t you go take a nap?” Keith asked.  “I can take over for a little while.”

   She smiled at him.  “I appreciate it, but I feel like I’d just toss and turn.”

   “Need me to pinch you?”

   “What?”

   “Shiro used to pinch my cheeks when I was little.  He said it would keep me awake in class.”

   She cocked her head at him.  “Well, I guess he wasn’t wrong.  How old was he?”

   “Fifteen or so.”

   That’s when a series of images flickered through her mind: a much younger Shiro, black-haired and fresh-faced, pinching the six-year-old Keith’s cheeks, still round and smooth with baby fat.  And Keith’s face would draw up in discomfort until his violet eyes watered and he fought Shiro’s hands away, little-boy voice whining plaintively.  

   Pidge started laughing.  “That’s hilarious!” she cackled.

   Keith twisted his mouth to one side and propped one hand on his hip.  “Or I could just tickle you,” he said.

   Pidge’s laughter cut off with a gasp, and she jumped sideways, away from him.  “No!  God, no!”

   Keith hadn’t moved an inch.  He smirked.  “You awake now?”

   The girl shot him a tired glare and growled under her breath.  “More so than I was,” she admitted.  “Still, I feel like I’m walking through a fog.”

   “You’re not the only one,” said Lance’s voice from behind her.

   The green paladin looked up at him as he trudged into the room.  “You look about like I feel,” she grumbled.  “Where’s Hunk?”

   Lance gestured over his shoulder.  “He stopped to talk to Allura for a few minutes, and then he said he was going to replenish the food supply for these guys.”  He gestured to the people in the room.

   “And what are _you_ doing?” Pidge asked.

   Lance cocked his head, but he couldn’t quite manage his usual smugness.  “I’m here to talk to you, actually,” he said.  Then he looked around.  “Although… this might not be the best place.  It’s… kinda serious.”

   “You?  Serious?”  Pidge asked.  “Either this is going to be really interesting, or it’ll totally suck.”

   Lance folded his arms.  “Yeah, I’m gonna agree with you, there.”  He looked at Keith.  “You’d better come too.”

   Keith raised an eyebrow and followed them out into the corridor, where Lance shut the sleep chamber door and related Hunk’s story to them.

   Pidge crossed her arms over her chest.  “An exploding chip implanted in the collars?” she asked.  “You’re joking.”

   Lance shook his head.  “I’m not joking.”  He raised his shoulders just slightly.  “Hunk said he didn’t know if it was supposed to do that or not, but we both thought you should have a look at the vids from the workshop to see if you could tell what it was for.”

   The girl sighed and looked at Keith.  “I’ve got to finish up here, and then it can be your shift, okay?”

   Keith nodded.  “Sure.”

   Pidge opened the door again.

   The sound hit them all at once.  Inside the room, most of the former slaves had gone quiet, and all had turned to listen to a high, grating whine that was emanating from one of the pods.  Pidge hadn’t known the sound would act like such an effective alarm clock, but it did; she was definitely awake now.

   “Hey!” Lance said, his face broadening into a smile.  “Cesare’s awake!”

   Allura appeared in the door next to them, with Coran and Hunk on her heels.  “It appears so.”  She turned to look at her paladins.  “Shall we go greet him?  I’m sure he’s hungry.”

   Pidge ran eagerly up to the baby’s pod, and was about to reach in to get him when a distinctive odor hit her.  She immediately clapped both hands over her nose.  “Ugh!”

   Hunk, who was right behind her, jerked backward and fanned the smell away with one hand.  “Jeez, kid!  What did you _eat_?”

   Lance and Coran seemed unaffected by the smell, and leaned in to look at the baby.

   “Hey,” Lance cooed.  “Hey there, handsome!  Why the long face?”  He reached into the pod and allowed Cesare to grab his long fingers with his tiny, chubby hands.  The little boy immediately guided Lance’s index finger into his mouth and began gumming it ravenously.  Lance hummed.  “You’ve got a couple teeth coming in, there, big guy!  You’re a little young for that, aren’t’cha?”

   Coran harrumphed and picked up the baby.  “Ah, the hazards of early parenthood.”  He drew Cesare close to his chest and looked at Allura.  “I remember when you were this age, Allura,” he said.  “Believe me, this is normal.”

   Lance shrugged.  “You get used to it.”  He looked at Allura.  “You wouldn’t happen to have any baby clothes around…?” he asked hesitantly.  “If you can find some, I’ll give him a bath…”

   Coran stepped in and set the little boy in Lance’s arms.  “Feed him first.”

   Lance looked at him.  “Feed him what?  Food goo?”

   “I don’t see why not.  You can eat it.”

   “Yeah, but I’m almost an adult,” said Lance.  “Babies need their mothers’ milk… for… development and stuff.”

   Allura scratched her chin thoughtfully.  “I could ask Filomena about that, but she doesn’t… er…”

   Lance looked up at her, and was hit with the same thought.  “Oh, crap!  She doesn’t _have_ any milk!”

   Keith raised an eyebrow at him.  “How can you tell?” he asked.

   Lance shot him a scowl.  “Apparently, large, severely swollen glands on your chest _hurt_ , mullet.  It’s not something she could just ignore.”

   “And how would _you_ know that?”  Pidge asked, arms still folded across her chest.

   “My sister has kids.”  He gave the other paladins a smug grin.  “So shut up.  I know stuff.”

   Allura smirked at Lance.  “That’s great.  And actually, Coran, I really don’t know where I would find those clothes, so… would you mind?  I’ll feed the baby.”

   “Of course, Princess.”  And off he went, with Hunk close behind him.

   The princess picked up a finger full of green goo and spooned it gently into Cesare’s mouth.  “I know it’s not a complete diet, but we can give him some supplements later,” she said.

   The baby grabbed her hand and sucked her fingers until there was nothing left, and then clamped down on her with the sharp buds of his two front teeth.  

   The princess yelped and tried to jerk backward, but Lance quickly grabbed her arm.

   “That makes it worse,” he said.  “Just wait.  He’ll let go.”  And, not two ticks later, Cesare let go.  Lance looked up at the princess.  “If it hurts that badly, don’t put your fingers in his mouth.”

   “You did it,” she retorted.

   “Yeah.  But my hands are different from yours.”  He showed her his right hand.  His palm was smooth, but the tips of his fingers showed hard, leathery calluses.

   Allura made a bemused sound and cocked her head.

   “Yup.”  Lance wrapped his arm around the baby again.  “If you don’t wanna get bitten again, I suggest you try a spork.”

   The princess rubbed her fingers.  “Let me get a bandage.  He broke the skin!” she said with a laugh.

   Lance stuck his tongue out at her.  “Serves you right.”  He looked over at the red paladin.  “You wanna come help?”

   Keith shrugged.  “I don’t know…  I didn’t grow up near little kids.”

   The blue paladin jerked his head at his friend.  “Come on, man.  He’s not going to hurt you.”

   Keith gave him a dry look.  “I’m more worried about hurting him.”

   “Nah.  That won’t happen either.”  He tickled Cesare under his chin.  “They’re resilient little critters.”

   Keith studied him for a moment, then harrumphed and picked up a spork and pushed the tray of green goo closer.

   “You wanna hold him or feed him?” Lance asked.

   “Uh…”  He made the mistake of holding his arms out in what was going to be a shrug, and Lance took that to mean he’d rather hold Cesare.  Lance came in close and carefully arranged the baby in his arms, his head supported in the crook of his elbow.

   For a moment, the little boy stopped crying and looked around to see who he was being handed to.  When his gaze met Keith’s, something strange happened; his big, violet-blue eyes widened as if in recognition, and he stared unblinking at the teenage boy holding him.

   “Aw, he likes you!” Lance said.

   Keith didn’t answer, he didn’t look up, didn’t so much as _breathe_.  It felt like something was trying to bind him to the child against his chest.  He shifted slightly, and Cesare settled more comfortably into the crook of his arm, and wrapped his tiny hand around Keith’s thumb.  He looked at the red paladin with wonder in his eyes, and Keith could almost hear the question in the coo that followed.  

  Mine?

   Something in Keith snapped.  He thrust the baby at Lance.

   “Dude, what-?”  He carefully took him from Keith, and the tot began to cry again.

   Keith backed away.  “I can’t.  Something’s weird.  I don’t know what that was just now…”

   Pidge came up beside him.  “Keith, you’re not making sense.”

   “I… I felt a _connection_ ,” said Keith, almost breathlessly.  “It was so… _possessive._ Like… I had to protect him, even if it was from you.”  He looked up at Lance.  “That’s not something I’m supposed to feel.”

   There was a hum from the doorway, and Coran appeared again, with a stack of folded clothes in one arm.  “It sounds to me like the little one is trying to imprint on you.”

   Keith backed away.  “Is… Is that a bad thing?”

   “Not necessarily.”  He set the stack of clothes on the tray next to the food goo.  “Cesare must have recognized something in you.  Perhaps the fact that you’re the exact same… er… breed, I suppose.”  He tweaked his mustache in thought.  “Although, you might’ve been right to react the way you did.  Imprinting is typically reserved for parent figures.”

   Keith looked down at the baby in Lance’s arms, who was now sucking food goo out of a spork that Pidge was tipping into his mouth.  A sort of sad amusement crossed the red paladin’s face.  “Sorry, buddy.  I’m not your dad.”

   Allura chuckled at the goings-on while she wrapped a little bandage around the tip of her index finger.  She sighed happily; things were slowly going back to normal, and if anything, Cesare was bringing their team closer together.  What was that old saying her father had told her?  It takes a village to raise a child?  She harrumphed and conceded that he might’ve been right.  She had seen each of the paladins in turn taking care of the baby… except one.

   She wasn’t sure exactly what it was that made her turn and look over her shoulder.  Maybe it was because she could feel something missing; something just outside the room.  But whatever it was, she was right.  She looked up just in time to see a glimpse of white hair as the doors slid shut.

   While the others were busy with the baby, the princess quietly got up and left the sleep chamber, shutting the doors quietly behind her.

   “Shiro.”

   He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.  “What’s up?”

   She gave him a tired look.  “Don’t play dumb.  It doesn’t suit you.”

   He sighed and turned to face her full on.  “I’m not sure how you want me to do this,” he finally said.  He shook his head.  “Whatever this is I’m supposed to be doing.”

   Allura watched him for a moment, trying to read the varying degrees of confusion and discomfort in his features.  Then she looked at the floor.  “I’m sorry.”

   Shiro looked up.

   “Whatever I said… I honestly didn’t know it would cause you this much anguish,” she said.  She folded her hands primly in front of her.  “I’ve watched you and Filomena interact, and I know now that there’s… there’s _nothing wrong_ with your relationship with her.”  She looked up, into his eyes.  “In fact, if you hadn’t told me that you were… whatever you two are… I’d never have been the wiser.  You’re discreet and professional, and I respect you both for keeping it that way.”  She took two steps toward him.  “You’ve been acting strangely ever since I spoke with you,” she said softly.  “You’re worried… borderline paranoid.  And I know this because otherwise, I don’t think you’d be pushing back so hard against all the criticism you’ve been receiving from your team.”

   He lowered his eyebrows at her, wary that she might criticize his methods.  “You don’t?”

   “No.”  She shook her head, and focused on his eyes again.  “You’ve always been the steadfast one.  It’s not like you to be so easily flustered, least of all by a bunch of cadets.”  Her eyes became sad.  “So I have to know, Shiro.  Did anything I said cause you to feel this way?”

   He sighed and looked at the floor.  Shiro didn’t want to say the words, but she had asked, and he was, for the most part, an honest man.  “‘Don’t make me compete with her’,” he quoted.

   Allura lowered her head again.  “I am sorry.  I really shouldn’t have said that.”

   “But,” Shiro continued, “I think there’s more to it than that, so… don’t blame yourself.”

   “I see.”

   Shiro’s eyes widened, and he cocked his head at her.  “You do?”

   She nodded.  “Oh, yes.  I had a long conversation with Filomena last night.”

   “She mentioned that,” said Shiro.

   Allura smiled and looked at the floor again.  “The way you look when you’re with her… it’s like nothing’s changed.  You’re steady, kind, and focused; the man we know and trust.”  Then her smile faded.  “So it was a little upsetting to hear that you’d had verbal confrontations with three of the four other paladins, not including myself.”  She sighed.  “My only deduction was that… something about her arrival must have confused you.  And… I can’t help but think I might’ve exacerbated the problem.”  She harrumphed, and the smile came back to her face.  “I must say, I’ve begun to see exactly where you got _distracted_.”  She quickly flicked her eyes up at his face.

   There was that word again; she’d said it on purpose.  Shiro flashed back to the training room, and rubbed his head irritatedly.

   “So that’s it,” he heard Allura say.

   He looked up at her.  “What?”

   She wasn’t smiling anymore, although her tone was interested.  “Certain cue words and phrases have started to create flashbacks for you.”

   Shiro sighed and looked at the floor.  “Yes.”  He glanced up at her.  “It’s not just flashbacks, though.  I-It’s like my imagination is on overdrive.”  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if just thinking about it made his head hurt.  “I… didn’t know who to talk to about them, and they’re not mission-related, so I thought it would be best if I just didn’t mention them.”

   “That’s why you sometimes look… distant.”

   He raised one eyebrow and cocked his head slightly to one side.  “I guess that makes sense,” he said.

   “Well, maybe there’s something I can do to help,” said the princess.  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and swept past him.  “Perhaps there’s a method to help you regain your focus.”

   Shiro raised an eyebrow at her.  “Did you talk to Kolivan or something?” he asked.

   “No.  Why?”

   Shiro backpedaled.  “No reason.  What did you have in mind?”

   She turned and leveled a sly smile at him.  “I want you to teach me to tango.”


	75. “Stay”- Zedd, ft. Alessia Cara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura's terrible idea finally allows Shiro to open up a little

   “This is a bad idea,” Shiro intoned solemnly.

   Allura glanced over her shoulder at him as she led him onto the training deck.  “You’ve said that twice already.”

   He lowered one eyebrow at her.  “Probably because you’re not listening to me.”

   She turned and looked up at him, and then sighed.  “Very well,” she said.  “If you can give me _one_ good reason why this is a bad idea, then I’ll reconsider, and let you mope in peace.”

   Shiro studied her a moment, and then sighed.  “I have this nagging feeling that I’m going to get slapped again,” he grumbled.

   “Oh, trust me,” said Allura, “if you get fresh with me, I’ll do worse than slap you.”  She glanced at him over her shoulder.  “And that feeling by itself does not make a good reason.”

   Shiro reluctantly followed her into the training deck.  “Tell me again why this is a good idea,” he said, though it sounded more like a question.

   She turned and put her hands on her hips.  “You have to focus on teaching me the steps and the motions.  If you don’t, I’ll probably step on your feet.”  She gave him a slightly apologetic smile.  “After all, I’m not Filomena.”

   Perhaps that was what confused Shiro.  On the one hand, Filomena and Allura were very different individuals; different upbringings, different backgrounds, different ways of handling particular stimuli and situations.  On the other hand, the two women had similar builds, similar powerful presences, and similar learning techniques.  For Allura, that meant he would need to be close to her; to teach by doing.  And being close was precisely what he was concerned about.  What if he flashed on something- god knew what- and crossed a line with the princess?  That was something he could never take back, and the guilt of it… he couldn’t even process that thought completely.

   “Don’t worry,” said Allura.  “I won’t let anything happen.”

   Shiro sighed.  “All right.  If you insist.”  He held out his hand to her.  “You probably already know the basics; open and closed positions…?”  He paused to see if she understood.

   She smiled and took his hand, and a fleeting look of distraction passed over his face.  He could see it; the run of Filomena’s fingers over his, studying the splint on his thumb and the calluses under each of his fingers.  How long ago was that?  A day?  An hour?  Or were they still in his room, studying each other?

   “Shiro?”

   He shook his head and refocused on Allura.  “Sorry.”  He pulled her into closed position, and she automatically placed her hand on his shoulder.

   “Do we need music?” she asked.

   “No.  You need to learn the steps first.”  He shifted his weight to his right foot.  “Every set of five steps will start on the same foot.  My left, your right.”  He pressed gently on the palm of her hand.  “Step backward.  One.  Two.  Three, then to the side, and bring your feet together.”

   “That’s one set.”

   Shiro nodded.  “Yes.”

   She smirked at him.  “All right, let’s do it again.”

   When Allura finally got the basic steps memorized, she paused and scratched her head.  “I don’t understand, though.”

   “What’s that?” Shiro asked.

   She looked up at him.  “If basic tango is just variations on that set, then what is it that makes it so… _sensual_?”

   “Tango is danced very closely,” Shiro explained.  “When you’re a professional dancer, you can listen to your partner’s movements and respond in milliseconds.”

   “I’ve not heard that word before.”

   Shiro blinked, and then tried again.  “A… a very small fraction of a tick.”

   “Ah.”

   He went on.  “Tango, possibly more than any other dance, is about listening to your partner.  Hearing what he or she thinks, what they like or don’t.  I might even be able to say _reading their mind_.”  He looked at the floor.  “Think about it.  Being inside your own head is hard enough.  Being inside someone else’s… it’s chaos.  And once you learn to navigate that…?  That’s very, very intimate.”

   She studied him for a moment, and then she too looked at the floor.  “The way you’ve described it… It’s almost like intercourse.”

   Shiro let out a nervous laugh.  “You’re more right than you know.  And that’s been a strong reason for tango’s survival as a dance form.”

   She gave him a wry smile.  “And why you’ve been reluctant to dance with me.”

   He sighed.  “Indirectly, yes.”

   “Indirectly?”  Allura raised an eyebrow.  “Does this have something to do with your _flashes_ , then?”

   His eyes went back to the floor.  “Yes.”

   She paused, stunned for a moment that he would admit it so openly.  “I… I had no idea you felt that way about her,” Allura finally managed.  “And at last I see why you thought this was a bad idea.”

   Shiro continued to look at the toes of his boots.  She had no idea how hard it was for him to say any of this; he was trying with all his might to be professional, to be a teacher as she had requested.  A pang of self-disgust rang through him like a misshapen bell; what a casual way this was to inform her that he was, at his core, a base creature with equally base desires.

   Her soft hands slid into his, and he looked up.  She was smiling.  She didn’t seem frightened of him, or shocked, or even remotely uncomfortable with this revelation.

   “It’s all right, Shiro,” she said warmly.  “I trust you.”  She put her left hand on his shoulder again.  “What’s next?”

   He skipped over the little voice telling him she really _shouldn’t_ trust him, and sighed and returned his hand to her back.  “Close your eyes.”

   “Eh?  Why?”

   He smirked.  “The steps are one thing.  Listening to your partner is quite another.”

   She harrumphed.  “Are you just going to drag me around the floor, then?”

   “No.  I’m not allowed to do that.  I have to listen to you, too.”

   The princess sniffed and closed her eyes.  She didn’t understand, but that was all right.  For now.

   The first thing she noticed was that his hand left her back for a moment.  His head turned- she could feel the muscles in his shoulders tense slightly- and then music came on, a lyrical humming that filled the room in long waves.  His right arm tensed as he reached for his pocket, and then returned to its position on her back.

   Sixteen counts in, a woman's voice lilted lyrics into the room.  Shiro began with an easy walk across the floor, directionless and steady, to ease them into what was probably the hardest thing he had ever done.

   “You okay?” he asked nervously.

   She hummed.  “Bored.  Teach me something.”

   He harrumphed and relaxed a bit.  She was goading him, he knew, but her tone was playful.  Very well.  Four beats' warning, and he led her into a samba, experimenting, pushing her limits and his, testing her flexibility, his self-control.

   Allura’s face became unsure, her brow furrowed in concentration as the step changed, and she was forced to follow him into unfamiliar territory.  “Shiro, I don’t know this one,” she begged.  Her fingers tightened in the seam where his sleeve connected to the body of his shirt, grasping for something to guide her.

   “You said you were bored,” he teased.  “Listen.  You’ll get it.”

   “Listen?” she asked.  “What am I supposed to hear?”

   His warm, soft chuckle.  “Where I’m going to step next.”  He stepped forward, and the toe of his boot met hers.  “Don’t anticipate me.”

   The princess growled.  “This is _hard_!” she whined.

   Shiro pushed her out to open position, spun her into a sweetheart embrace and back out, and the samba suddenly became something else.

   “‘I could give a thousand reasons why,

   But you’re going,

   And you know that…’”

   Shiro spun her swiftly.  He knew what would happen next, but it had to be done.  “‘All you have to do is STAY…’”  She landed against him, chest to chest, and Shiro's eyes unfocused again.

_Filomena_.  He was kissing her, his hands on her waist, pressing into her like he yearned for their two bodies to meld into one.

   Allura made a startled sound, and he snapped back to the present.  Shiro shook his head in frustration.  The song marched on, as ruthless and tyrannical as a clock.  The dance had changed again.  Tango.  Sensual, demanding all his attention and sparking his passion; how was it that they always came back to this?

   “I felt it.”

   Shiro glanced down at her.  “Huh?”

   “I felt it,” she repeated.  “I followed you.  But there at the end…”  She opened one eye at him.  “You had a flashback, didn’t you?”  She closed the eye before he could glare at her.  “I wasn’t supposed to collide with you.”

   “No.”  He shook his head.  “That was my fault.  I didn’t catch you.”

   Allura nodded and reached for his hand again.  “What next?”

   This was a bad idea.  The sentence played over and over in his head.  “Manipulate me.  Tango is a tease; a push and pull.”

   She smirked.  “So calling yourself a leader…”

   “I’m a leader in name only,” Shiro corrected.  “I have to listen to you at _least_ as much as you listen to me.”

   She made a sound of sly understanding, a purr that would’ve annoyed Shiro if it had come from anyone else.  “I understand.”  She wrapped her arm a little further around his neck, fingers playing teasingly against the back of his collar.

   Shiro fought back another flash, because he could feel it pressing against his ribcage.  “Allura,” he warned, the muscles in his neck flexing away from her fingers.

   “There’s a thing called compartmentalization, Shiro,” she murmured.  “Teach me.  Don’t leave anything out.  But realize, too, that I’m not her.  I’m not.  I can’t give you what you want.”  She lowered her head.  “I… I can’t replace her.”

   She felt him exhale, heard the hiss of air through his nose.  It was voiceless, but she could feel the frustration in it, hear the growl that should have accompanied it.  Her slightly smug little reminder had sparked a small flame of anger under Shiro’s normally calm façade.

   Shiro gave in.  He slackened his grip on his inhibitions, allowing himself permission to touch her as tango demanded.  They leaned together, his hand slid under her knee, supporting her weight on his right arm and torso.  With her against him, he was suddenly strong, and he wanted to _show_ her.

   He should have realized he had nothing to prove.  The moment she hooked her leg over his, his mind went back to that room, that dream, a moment that never even happened, with him trembling under Filomena’s touch, grasping for a kind of self-control he'd never learned.

   He clenched his teeth and forced himself back to reality, tightening fingers in the fabric of Allura’s dress.  He pulled her slightly, and then pushed her into another step, forcing her to quickly move her leg into a new position.

   “That was another one,” she noted.

   “You’re getting better at this,” Shiro said, a little grudgingly.

   “What was it?” she asked.

   “We’re not talking about this,” he said shortly.

   “I’m your commanding officer,” she reminded him.  “What we can talk about is for me to decide.”

   Shiro’s expression went flat.  “As much as I appreciate it, you’re still Lance’s age.  It’s inappropriate.”

   She went on as if she hadn’t heard him.  “It compromised you, Shiro.  I need to know.”  She finally opened both eyes and looked up at him.  “You said you hadn’t consummated your relationship with her.”

   Shiro was momentarily taken aback by her forwardness.  He raised an eyebrow.  “No…”

   “Then exactly _what_ is all the fuss about?  That you haven’t?”

   Shiro stopped moving.  “Allura, I didn’t want to discuss this.”  _This_ , coming from a girl who had more than likely never had a romantic relationship, much less likely a sexual one.  How could she be so casual about discussing this with him?

   “Why?” she asked stubbornly.  “Are you feeling exposed?”

   “Of course I am!” Shiro retorted.

   “Why?”

   Shiro shifted forward, into her.  “Because I don’t want to _be_ like him!” he barked.

   There was silence between them for several ticks, during which Shiro took a deep breath and stepped back.  Allura watched him intently, trying to force back the fear he was trying to impress upon her.  When she was able to breathe, she finished his thought.  “Like _Hayze_?” she asked.

   Shiro answered by cupping both hands over his face and letting out a distraught huff.

   “I see.”  She really did.  “You’re scared of hurting her.  Scared of hurting _everyone_.”  She let him stand there for several more ticks, within arm’s reach but at the same time too far gone to help.  “When did this start?”

   Shiro wiped the white fringe out of his face and finally looked up.  “It was the _nightmare_ , okay?” he snapped, though it didn’t come out quite as sharply as before.  He sighed and brought his volume down a notch.  “The dream I had the night before we went back to Aepsis.”  

   She nodded.  “I remember.  Don’t shout.”

   The black paladin sighed and touched his hand to his forehead.  “We… we spent the night together, and when I came to, I had done… something.  I don’t know.  She was hurt… mangled, almost beyond recognition.”  He heaved a sigh.  “And the worst part… the worst part was that it was a dream, because the things I felt for her… the things I wanted to do with her…  Those were real.”  He laughed, and he wasn’t sure why.  “And- and oh, I was so stupid…  When I last talked to her, I _foolishly_ egged her on to show me what she could do, what she did to those other guys… and I ended up with these flashes, and it just makes everything… too vivid.  Everything’s too close.”

   Finally, Allura looked scared.  “Does she know?” she asked tentatively.

   That much he could say with absolute certainty.  “Yes.  She definitely knows.”

   “And it doesn’t scare her?”

   “If it doesn’t, it probably should.”

   She was quiet a few more ticks.  “You’re right,” she muttered.  “This conversation is too… too _big_ for me.”  She sighed.  “I stand by my first statement, at least.  You need to figure this out.  But… I realize now that you won’t be able to do that alone.”  She turned to face the door.  “I wish I could help you, Shiro.  But it seems the only people who can help you now… are the very ones you’re trying to push away.”  She lowered her head.  “I’m sorry.”

   She left him standing in the training room, the music still playing, still taunting him.  

   “‘All you have to do is

   Stay a minute,

   Just take your time,

   The clock is ticking…’”


	76. “First Steps” - Jim Brickman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasant reunion occurs amidst all the drama between Shiro and his team. Lance explains the Voltron team's alliance with the Blade of Marmora

   Miela didn’t mean to sleep as long as she did.  The medicine Matik had given her for her migraine had worn off hours ago, by the feel of it.  She felt light and almost euphoric with relief; the last physical memory of the occasional hell she passed through.

   She woke up in a bed of ancient cushions, wondering if she’d fallen asleep in her father’s workshop again, and if the terrible, terrifying, wonderful dream was over.

   Apparently it wasn’t.  Wasn’t over.  Wasn’t a dream.

   She looked around.  The place smelled like her father’s old wood shed, of metal shavings and singed wood and dust, a scent and sentiment that finally brought tears to her eyes.  She picked up a pillow and hugged it tightly, using it to hide the evidence that, even after four years, she might still be homesick.

   It smelled like him; warm and well-used, loved by dust and firelight darkness and permeated by woodsmoke.

   She might have to steal this pillow.

   She swallowed the tears and put the cushion down, and rolled lazily out of her makeshift bed.

   “Takashi?” she called.  Whose name was that on her tongue?  The memories floated back to her a little at a time, each emotion coming back to her fresh, right up until the point when she had fallen asleep on Hunk’s shoulder.  No, wait.  Was there something after that?  Someone shouting, or arguing, perhaps?

   She could hear it in the back of her mind.  “When I’m with her, it feels like she does all the thinking for both of us.  She’s so calm, so smart, and I just got lost.”

   For some reason, it only made her want to cry again.  She sighed and choked the feeling down, and then shook her head.  

   Oh, Takashi.  I’ve gone too far.

   She stood up, taking her time in finding her balance, before wandering toward the door.  What time was it?  She grumbled to herself that, in space, time might as well not matter at all, as long as the things that needed doing got done.

   She held a hand up in front of the door panel, and a screen came to life.  She hummed and tested it out.  Maybe she could get used to this; it seemed to react to _intent_ , so maybe she could use it to find out where everyone was.

   Immediately, Princess Allura’s face appeared onscreen.  It seemed to catch her attention, and she turned to face the camera.

   “Oh!” she exclaimed.  “You’ve figured out the controls!  I didn’t know you could read Altean!”

   Miela raised an eyebrow at her.  “I can’t read Altean.”

   Allura harrumphed.  “You must be an _adept_ , then.”

   She offered the princess a sheepish smile.  “I’ve been told that before, so it must be true.”  She leaned in toward her screen.  “Where is everyone?”

   “We’re on the bridge,” Allura replied.  “Waiting for you, as it happens.”

   Miela smiled broadly.  “I’ll be right there.”

   She sprinted for the elevators, and then picked up the pace again as soon as she got off on the main deck.  There could be only one reason they would wait for her.  She burst onto the bridge, out of breath, fine hair matted to her neck, and skidded to a halt in front of Princess Allura without even looking to see who else was in the room.

   The silver-haired woman turned around and gave her a surprised look.  “You didn’t run the whole way, did you?” she asked, and then laughed because she knew the answer to that question.  She glanced over her right shoulder at Lance.

   The blue paladin met her gaze and frowned.  “Seriously?  I just got him quiet,” he groused, though his complaint had no real power to it.  He smirked and rose from his seat, and lifted Cesare up against a cloth he had slung over his shoulder.

   Filomena inhaled a gasp, and then pressed her hand over her mouth.

   Lance eyed her warily.  “Hey, hey, hey, don’t start that!  You’re gonna make _me_ cry!”

   The woman pursed her lips and gave a half-laugh.  “Sorry.  I got a little excited.”

   Lance made a noise of acquiescence.  “I guess I can’t argue with that.”  He patted Cesare on the back twice, and then passed him across the small space to Filomena.  “All right, handsome.  Let’s go see Mom.”

   Cesare made a reluctant whine as he left the warmth of Lance’s chest, but quickly quietened again when his body met his mother’s.  He opened his violet-blue eyes and cooed as he recognized her, and it took every ounce of willpower Filomena could muster to keep herself from breaking down from relief.

   “He’s okay,” Lance informed her, petting the little boy’s black hair.  He lifted a wry smile at Filomena.  “But you get to change him next time.  Pidge just about passed out.”

   The girl, who was sitting across the room, folded her arms.  “Yeah, but let’s be honest; that was some pretty malodorous stuff.”

   “It wasn’t _that_ bad,” said Lance.  “But then again, you didn’t grow up in _my_ house.”

   Pidge groaned, and Keith, who was standing against the far wall, chuckled quietly.

   The red paladin unfolded his arms and walked across the deck to greet Miela.  “Good to see you up and around,” he said.  “I heard you weren’t feeling well.”

   She shook her head.  “It was nothing.”

   “Hey,” Hunk interjected, “I got a lesson in migraine stages from Matik.  That’s some scary stuff.  Don’t call it ‘nothing’.”

   Filomena smiled at him.  “I guess you’re right.  When I had my first one, my parents thought I was having a stroke.”

   The yellow paladin nodded.  “Sounds about right.”

   The young woman laughed under her breath, and then looked around.  “What did I miss?”

   Pidge cut her eyes off to the side of the room.  “Lots of _drama_ ,” she grumbled.

   Keith glanced over his shoulder at the green paladin, and then chose to ignore that statement.  “Coran thinks Cesare might be trying to imprint on me,” he informed her.

   She cocked her head at him.  “Isn’t he a little old for that?” she asked.

   The orange-haired man came up the steps, off to her side.  “Normally, I’d say you were correct,” he said.  “But it seems Keith was able to sense something a little bit more primal.”  He hesitated, but eventually went on.  “The… desire for a father figure.”

   Miela cocked her head.  “At this point, I was sure Matik would’ve filled that role.”

   Keith shook his head.  “He tried to connect with me on an… animalistic level.”  He laughed under his breath.  “If I hadn’t cut him off, I might’ve started growling at Lance like a momma cat.”

   Lance crossed his arms.  “You do that anyway,” he squawked.

   Keith ignored him and lowered his head.  “I wanted to tell you myself, because… I didn’t know how well you’d react to it coming from anyone else.”

   She smiled gently at him.  “I’m glad you felt you could be honest with me.”  She glanced down at the baby in her arms.  “He seems to like you, so… I suppose you should take it as a compliment.”

   “You’re not mad?”

   She looked up at him again.  “No.  Why would I be?”

   Keith watched her eyes for a moment, and then looked at the floor.  “Because… I’m not his father.”

   Filomena was silent for a few ticks, and then she sighed and touched his arm.  “Keith, as far as I’m concerned, Cesare doesn’t _have_ a father.  Besides me, he hasn’t attempted to imprint on anyone.”  His eyes met hers again.  “I should be grateful that you were the one he wanted.”

   Keith smiled.  “Well, I’m a little young to play dad… maybe big brother?”

   “Yeah!” Lance asserted, “And I’m already an uncle, so look at us!  One big happy dysfunctional family!”

   Keith slid one finger into Cesare’s grip and chuckled when the baby tried to stick the finger in his mouth.  “Yeah, I figured _imprinting_ would be something best left to…”  He looked up at Lance frantically trying to get his attention.  

   The blue paladin made a slashing motion across his throat to signal Keith to _shut up_.  

   Keith raised an eyebrow at him.  “What… are you doing?”

   Miela turned to look at Lance, and caught him mid-gesture.

   Lance coughed, face reddening slightly, and put his hand down.

   Filomena slowly finished Keith’s thought, watching Lance for a reaction.  “Something best left… to _Shiro_.”  The blue paladin winced, and Miela sighed.  “It wasn’t a dream, then,” she said, and snuggled Cesare closer to her chest.  “You had an argument while I was asleep.”

   “I think _everyone_ had arguments with Shiro while you were asleep,” said Pidge flatly.

   “Not me,” said Hunk.  “After all that’s happened, I’m swearing off drama.”

   The green paladin raised an eyebrow at him.  “I don’t blame you.”

   “Why?” Filomena asked.

   Allura spoke for all of them.  “We were concerned that your relationship has affected his judgement.  Maybe it has or maybe it hasn’t, but ever since he came out of the pod, he’s been acting… well, we’ll say ‘very confused’ and leave it at that.”  She looked around at the rest of her paladins.  “My impression, after hearing all accounts, is that he’s trying to find the best way to protect Filomena and the other prisoners.  However, something in his emotions is forcing him to identify with one of the slavers, and that’s… confusing.  Frightening.”  She sighed and looked at the floor.  “It makes me wonder what he found out from The Blade of Marmora.”

   Keith looked up at her.  “He talked to them?”

   The princess glanced at him.  “I had asked him to, so I expect that he did.”  A light went on behind her eyes.  “He asked me earlier if I had spoken with Kolivan…”

   Filomena stopped her.  “I’m sorry, the blade of what?”

   “The Blade of Marmora,” Hunk repeated.

   “What’s that?”

   Lance answered.  “Did you ever watch that old Star Wars series?” he asked.

   “Yeah.  My grandfather loved that stuff.”

   “Okay.”  Lance took a deep breath and pressed his hands together as he prepared to deliver his explanation of the situation.  “The Galra Empire, led by Zarkon, controls the majority of the universe.  Think of The Blade of Marmora as the rebellion.  They’re rebel Galra.”

   Miela blinked, and then looked at Keith.  “That would make you Luke Skywalker, then,” she said with a grin.

   Lance managed to look dismayed.  “I honestly would not have put the two together,” he grumbled.  

   Keith looked confused.  “What?”

   Lance waved a hand at him.  “Don’t worry about it.”  He looked back at Miela with a gentle smile.  “Anyway, we’re allied with them.  Not all Galra are evil.”

   Filomena looked briefly at Keith.  His face was forced into a tightly neutral expression as she faced this rather uncomfortable truth.  Did she really mean what she had said before?  That his mother had loved him?  What was she going to say next, and how would it change their relationship?  And then she shifted her gaze down at her son.  “No, I suppose not.”


	77. "Lose My Mind” - Brett Eldredge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro finally gives in and talks to Matik

   Matik was just leaving her makeshift office, on her way to get more coffee.  It was late (or maybe early was more correct), and her stream of patients was slowing down for the night, so she felt a break was well-deserved.  She had eaten a little of what Hunk had brought her, but for the most part she was too high-strung to have much of an appetite.  So, coffee would have to do.

   She was startled into a gasp when she opened the door and nearly ran into the massive shadow outside.

   “Sorry!” said Shiro’s gentle voice.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

   Matik rubbed her bony hand across her chest and took a deep breath to slow her pulse.  “Oh!” she gasped.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you do that on purpose!”

   “What?  Running into people?”

   “Appearing out of nowhere.”  She stood up straight and folded her arms.  “What do you want?”

   Shiro rubbed his head.  “I…”  Then he sighed and gave her a resigned look.  “Your counsel.”

   Matik hummed thoughtfully, and watched him for a few ticks.  “It’s about time,” she muttered.  She jerked her head at him.  “I guess you should come in, then.”

   “Thank you.”  He passed her and entered the room.

   “Don’t thank me yet.”  She closed the door behind him.  “I suppose that my usual litany, that you don’t have to explain every little aspect of humanity to me, is understood?”

   Shiro glanced at her as she curled up in a hover chair Allura had procured for her.  “I guess?”

   The medic hummed and leaned toward him, and then propped both arms over the top of one bony knee.  “If something needs clarifying, I’ll ask.  Until then, I expect you to do most of the talking.”

   Shiro sighed, looked once at the couch, and sat down.  “Okay, where do you want me to start?”

   She blinked once.  “Start with whatever it was that finally convinced you to see me.”

   He looked at her for a moment.  “I think I’m starting to scare people.”

   Her eyebrow flexed in amusement.  “Starting to?  You scare me, and I don’t even know you.  _Who_ have you scared?”

   “Princess Allura.”

   She made an understanding noise.  “And she doesn’t scare easily.”

   “No.”

   When he was quiet for a few ticks, Matik leaned forward.  “Talk to me, Shiro.  You wanted me to hear you, so talk.”

   “I don’t know what to talk about,” he said, his voice hard-edged.

   “Of course you do,” she replied.  “You’re the only one who does.”

   Shiro took a deep breath and braced his hands on his knees.

   Matik watched him.  His body was tense, his posture defensive.  “What are you so insecure about?”

   He raised an eyebrow at her.  “At this point, probably everything.  What makes it worse is how people rely on me, and think I have my life together.  It’s not.  It’s falling… _fallen_ apart, and I… I don’t know how to do this.”

   “Do what?”

   He made a helpless gesture.  “ _Any_ of this.”  His hands went back to his knees.  “I… I wasn’t okay before, but _now_ , keeping myself sane feels ten times harder.”

   “Oh?  What changed?”

   His eyes met hers in a stare that said she already knew the answer to that question.

   Matik harrumphed.  “You met Filomena.”

   “ _Met_ her?”  He gave a derisive laugh.  “More like fell under her spell.”

   The Grey sat back.  “You make it sound like it’s her fault.”

   Shiro studied her for a moment.  “I guess I hadn’t thought that deeply about it, but maybe you’re right.  I… I _do_ kind of blame her.”

   “Why?”

   Shiro finally sat back.  “When I’ve asked her, she’s been pretty honest about her past.  She’s had several lovers in her history, and has admitted to being able to manipulate emotions.  I just… I hate to say it, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s manipulated me.”

   “Has she hurt you?” Matik asked.  “Whether or not she has manipulated you, has she harmed you, degraded you, made you feel _less_ in any way?”

   Shiro thought about it.  “I can’t say so.”

   “So you still think she has, somehow.”

   Shiro rolled his eyes at how easily she had read him.  “If she hasn’t then that means I’m just doing it to myself, and I’m just…”  He cut himself off.

   “Crazy,” Matik finished for him.  “But there’s no shame in that.  The shame is in taking it out on someone who may have nothing to do with it.”

   He cut his eyes up at her.  “Aren’t you supposed to be impartial?”

   She smirked at him.  “I _am_ being impartial.  You’re the one who wants to blame Filomena for the things _you_ feel.”  She raised her hand to indicate him.  “You said she’d been honest with you, about her history and her ability.  Did she show remorse?”

   Had he not noticed?  The forceful pushing she’d been doing ever since she came aboard, not wanting to cross lines, trying to stay in line and keep others at arm’s reach.  Wasn’t that enough?  Filomena stayed in her lane as much as she could; it was everyone else who had tried to intersect paths with her.  She had learned from her mistakes as a younger woman, from a man who nearly killed her, and the ones who came before.

   Shiro sighed.  “Yes.”

   “Do you still think she would use that power on you without your consent?”

   “She has.  Only once, but she has.”

   “Oh?”

   Shame pulsed through Shiro’s chest as he remembered the circumstances behind that single instance.  “She… She used it to save my life.”

   Matik hummed.  “Extenuating circumstances, then.  Do you blame her for that?”

   Shiro shook his head.  “Not for that.”

   “Then what for?”  The Grey cocked her head slightly.  “Loving you?”

   Shiro looked up at her, and noticed for the first time that Matik really wasn’t very old at all.  In terms of human years, she was perhaps in her mid or late thirties, still an elegant creature with years of life ahead.  Did she really understand the complexities of what was going on inside his head?

   The thought stunned him.  “Loving… me?”  Was that it?  “She… She loves me?”

   Matik shrugged.  “You know I can’t answer that.”

   Shiro turned her tactic back on her.  “You think she loves me.”

   She shrugged again.  “We Greys don’t have the same lifespan as humans.  Our lives are too short to spend hiding things from those we care about, so as a race we are very straightforward.  Our honesty with each other is considered a mark of affection; even devotion.”  She shook her head.  “My version of love might be quite different from hers, but from my perspective ‘loving you’ is precisely what she’s been doing, according to the things you’ve said about her.”

   That opened up a whole new box of possibilities for Shiro.  Every little honest tidbit, from their first confrontation to their last conversation, hit him slightly differently now.  

   “The _least_ you could do is be honest about your own actions.”  I could respect you.

   “My name is Filomena.”  I’m scared, and I need someone to know who I am.  I trust you.

   “He tried to ruin me.”  You deserve the truth, even if learning it will drive you away from me.

   “Takashi, please, answer me!”  Don’t leave me.  Oh, God, please don’t let me have made a mistake.

   “She loves me.”  The thought made Shiro’s eyes water.  “Oh god,” he whispered.  He cupped a hand over his eyes, trying to hide the blush that was spreading across his face.

   “You’re really bad at this, aren’t you?” Matik asked with a chuckle.  It was the first time he’d heard her laugh.

   Shiro twisted his mouth at her in poorly disguised irritation.  “I’m usually the last one to know anything, where feelings are concerned.”

   “And yet _you_ made the first move.”

   “Was it that obvious?”

   She laughed again.  “The way you impulsively rush into things bigger than yourself?  Yes.”  She cocked her head again, endearingly.  “Maybe it’s curiosity.  The urge to explore the unknown.”  She scratched the back of her head.  “Maybe that’s why this situation puzzles me, somewhat.  You’re so eager to explore this new feeling, but at the same time you’re terrified that you’ll be judged for it.”  She studied him, black eyes narrowed, for a few more ticks.  “Ah.  That’s it.  You feel you’re at fault for something; hurting someone, perhaps?”

   Shiro glared at her.  “You’re a little too good at this.”

   She shrugged.  “Believe it or not, Greys are exceptional at reading microexpressions.”

   “I believe it.”

   Matik adjusted herself, folding her legs up in a half-lotus position.  “So, who was it?”

   Shiro sighed.  “Could be anybody.”

   “But it isn’t.”

   He shot her a dry look.  “This mind-reading thing is going to get old _quick_.”

   “It’s just as annoying for me, I assure you.”  She gestured for him to continue.

   Shiro looked at the floor.  “Matt Holt.  Pidge’s older brother.”

   “And?”

   He looked at her.  She wasn’t asking who he was to Shiro.  “I left him behind when I escaped the Galra.”

   Matik hummed and folded her arms.  “I see.  You want to protect someone, and sometimes the only way you can do that is to leave.  That _is_ a multifaceted problem, isn’t it?”

   Shiro raised an eyebrow at Matik.  At the risk of seeming impolite, he had to ask.  “How old are you?”

   “Twenty.” 

   Shiro’s jaw dropped.

   “That’s almost middle-aged for Greys.”  She smirked.  “Don’t look so shocked.”  She chuckled again.  “Let’s continue.  This disconnect has worsened over the course of the last twenty vargas.  I take it a few things have happened?”

   Shiro had made it to the point where he could tell her anything.  In spite of her tactlessness, Matik wasn’t going to judge his decisions for good or ill, responsible or not, and that made talking to her much easier.  He told her everything from start to finish: his fights with his teammates, Allura’s attempt to help him, Hunk’s explosive discovery, and finally his reluctance to face Filomena after talking to Hayze and the Blade of Marmora.

   “I can’t help you on marital matters, Shiro,” she said.  “That stuff’s up to you.  But as for Hayze, there’s really no reason for you to identify yourself with him.”

   “Isn’t there?” Shiro asked.

   “No.  The motives driving your actions are complete opposites.”

   “That’s just it.  I’m afraid they’re not.”

   She frowned.  “What do you mean?”

   “I…”  He felt his face flush.  “I _want_ her.”

   “Want her how?  To possess?”  She shifted her legs again. 

   Shiro rubbed his head.  “Yes…  I know in my head that I can’t _own_ her, and I don’t want to control her, but…”

   “I understand.”

   He looked up at her.  “You do?”

   “Certainly.”  She didn’t elaborate.  “Then perhaps your ally was right, and you should consider ‘claiming’ each other.”

   Shiro looked surprised for a moment.  “A claiming is _mutual_?”

   “Of course.”  She raised a hairless eyebrow at him.  “What did you think it was?”

   “I… I’m not sure I should answer that.”

   She chuckled at him.  “That answers my question.  And anyway, no.  You still hold Filomena’s feelings in higher regard than your own desires.  In my book, that makes you far and away a better person than Hayze.”  She gave him a calming smile.  “It’s just going to take you some time… and maybe _her help_ … to realize that.”

   Shiro allowed himself a little smile.  “I appreciate that.”

   Matik relaxed into her chair.  “I should retire, Shiro.  You could probably use some sleep, too.”

   “Yeah, you’re right.”  He sighed and stood up.  “Thank you for letting me talk to you.  I… I have some thinking to do, but it feels clearer now.”

   “And it doesn’t when you talk to her?”

   He looked at Matik.  “It’s not that.  In fact, when I talk to her, it always seems to help.  Just like talking to you.”  He turned his gaze down to the floor.  “It’s just that…  It feels like I’m facing several contradictory arguments, and they all have the same answer, and I feel stupid because I don’t know the answer yet.”

   Matik harrumphed.  “That’s because you _are_ being stupid, Shiro.  You said earlier that you got lost?  Well, perhaps you haven’t considered that, since meeting her, you just finally realized how lost you are.”  She smiled.  “Don’t you see, black paladin?  You’ve found the needle for your compass.”

   Shiro cocked his head and gave her a worried look.  “That might be, but does she point North?”

   “It doesn’t matter,” said Matik.  “She points you where you need to go.”  She smiled.  “Goodnight, black paladin.”

   “Goodnight, Matik.”

   Shiro left feeling unsure, but all in all less confused than when he had entered.  It felt that way a lot recently, when people gave him good advice but left him to make the big decisions on his own.

   The biggest decision was what to do with this new knowledge.  Filomena _loved_ him; at least, that was Matik’s take on things.  He wasn’t sure if the flashes had stopped or if they were just on hiatus, but he felt steadier, and holy quiznak, she _loved_ him!  Bursts of euphoria had replaced… no, _interspersed_ with his flashes.  He realized this just as an image of Filomena laughing passed before his eyes.  That one wasn’t so bad.

   Shiro leaned against the wall outside Matik’s office and rubbed his eyes; not to push the image away, but to make it stay a little longer.  He had interrupted that laugh with a kiss.  As soon as that beautiful, bell-like sound corked against his mouth, Shiro started laughing, quietly, until his sides hurt and his eyes were watering.  Let the tears come.  Let his body ache.

   She loves me.  She loves me.  She loves me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I changed the chapter title. It makes more sense this way, I promise. 
> 
> Little bitty spoiler: "There's Nothing Holding Me Back" is still going to be a chapter title. Lucky you!


	78. “I’ll Be There” - Josh Turner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matik halfway fixes things... and then Filomena screws it all up

   Filomena fell asleep in the kitchen, Cesare still curled tightly in one arm.  She had fed him until he refused to eat more, and then curled up in the far corner, where she and Shiro had met the previous morning, and was asleep within minutes of her baby.

   She awoke to the sound of soft humming, and the trail of fingers in her hair.  She slowly opened her eyes.  It took her a moment to adjust to the bright lights.  How had she fallen asleep?  “Takashi?” she mumbled.

   “Hey.”  His fuzzy features became clear as he leaned in toward her.  “I figured you’d be in bed.  Didn’t know I’d find you here.”

   She shook her head, but that hurt a little.  “I didn’t know if he’d be hungry again.”  She looked around.  “I knew if I took him to bed, he’d just wake me up.”

   “Have you eaten since yesterday?” Shiro asked.

   “Yesterday?” she asked.  She rubbed her eyes with one hand.  “What time is it?”

   He looked up.  “It’s about eight, I guess.”  He chuckled.  “I’m still running on hours and minutes.”

   Filomena squinted her eyes at him, and then let them fall closed again.  “What happened to your clock?”

   He shrugged.  “It’s still helpful.”  He traced his fingers around her ear.  “I wanted to see you like this,” he murmured.

   She hummed in question, but didn’t open her eyes.  “Asleep?”  She felt him lean back into the seat, and snuggled her head on his chest.  “I think you already had that chance.”

   “Yeah, when something was wrong,” he intoned.  “When you were hurt, or sedated.  I wanted to see this; you being at ease and peaceful.”

   She snickered at him.  “Would it help if we went back to your quarters?” she teased.

   “I see you’re awake enough to make fun of me.”

   She smiled and nodded against him.  “It’s just so much fun.”

   He rolled his eyes.  “It’s too easy.  If you want a real challenge, go tease Hunk.”

   “I’m not in it for the challenge, _inamorato_.”

   He bent and kissed the top of her head.  “I know.  But you should probably know that your little tactics have consequences.”

   She harrumphed.  “That’s why I don’t _use_ them, Takashi.”  She opened one eye.  “Except on you, because you asked.”  She raised her head off his chest.  “Why?  Was it too much?”

   Shiro sighed, but couldn’t keep his mask of seriousness on.  “A little.  But I have a _vivid imagination_.”  He reached up and scratched his head.  “And a few screws loose, if what Matik said is true.”

   It took her a moment to decipher that turn of phrase.  “Loose screws?”

   Shiro whistled and circled a finger around his right temple.

   She understood that.  “Oh.  You mean ‘missing a wheel’.”  She studied his eyes, and then a light bulb seemed to go on above her head as she realized the medic had called him crazy.  “Oh, _Dio_ , I didn’t even consider your flashbacks!  I am _so_ sorry!”

   He chuckled softly, and then shushed her.  “You’ll wake the baby.”  He reached down and stroked Cesare’s hair.  “You warned me in advance, and that was all you could have done.”

   She harrumphed and set Cesare in the bend of her hip, halfway on Shiro’s lap, and tucked herself back under his arm.  “True.  You have a very familiar stubborn streak.”

   “So glad you noticed.”  He reached up and tweaked the tip of her nose.  “You never answered my question.  Have you eaten?”

   “Eh.  No.  If I’m honest, I probably got more food on me than in his mouth.”

   “Want me to make something?”

   She cut her eyes up at him.  “You cook, too?”

   “Well, I had to survive to adulthood somehow,” he said with a laugh.  “It’s not gourmet by anyone’s standards, but it’s edible.”

   She smirked.  “I appreciate it, but I’m really not hungry yet.  Moreover, I’m very much enjoying feeling you next to me.”

   “Oh?”  Shiro stopped himself before he could ask his next question; if she wouldn’t mind waking up next to him more often.

   She gave him an affirmative hum, and then said something dangerously close to what he was thinking.  “I could get used to that.”

   How did she do that?  “Filomena?”

   “Hm?”

   “Teach me to do what you do.”

   She opened her eyes and stared into his chest for a few ticks.  “That might not be such a good idea,” she said.  “When you see things the way I see them, you can either accept a new reality… or reject your current one.  Things don’t go back to the way they were before.”  She lifted herself off his chest again so that she could look into his eyes.  “Why?”

   Shiro couldn’t help but be honest with her now.  If Matik’s theory had any merit, then being honest might gain him some brownie points.  “I want to touch you the way you touched me.”

   Filomena’s face flushed, and she looked down.  “That was… me crossing far, _far_ outside my lines.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “It didn’t seem that way.”

   “It was presumptuous and _unimaginably_ immoral.”

   His hand slid up her back to the nape of her neck.  “It was necessary.”

   He watched her eyes water.  “I swore I would never do that again,” she said evenly.  “I broke a huge promise…”

   “You saved my life,” Shiro corrected her.  “But if it means that much, I’ll take it back.”  He kissed her sweetly, and picked Cesare up in his right arm.  “Can you at least explain to me why it was so wrong?” he asked, pulling her back against him.

   She sighed and settled in next to him.  “The mind is a lot like a house.  To have someone enter without being invited is like burglary.  To manipulate the mindscape at that level… messing with the fabric of your identity, or rewiring how your body functions… it’s rape.”

   Shiro hummed thoughtfully.  “But you were gentle, and you apologized…”

   “Now you know why.”  She looked up at him.  “I don’t take pleasure in that ability, Takashi.  Not after all that’s happened.”

   Shiro nodded.  “I understand.”  He kissed her forehead.  “I just wanted to be closer to you.”

   Filomena broke his gaze again.  “You’re already that close to me.”

   “I am?”

   She nodded.  “Your right hand… When you touched me, during our sparring match…”

   Shiro was hit by a pulse of horror.  “I entered your mind uninvited?”

   She shook her head.  “You breached a wall, but you didn’t enter.”

   “I… I didn’t know.”

   Filomena smiled comfortingly at him.  “I know.  That’s why I didn’t say anything.”  She chuckled and looked at his arm.  “That thing didn’t come with instructions, after all.”

   “No, it didn’t.”  Shiro looked at the arm cradling the baby.  “So… it’s about energy transference and intent?”

   “That’s the basis of it, yes,” Filomena said with a nod.  “You caught on to that _very_ quickly.”

   “Well, I’m not Pidge, but I’m not the dullest knife in the drawer.”

   She rolled her eyes.  “You understated that nicely.”

   Shiro laughed under his breath.  “Well, that’s how the arm works, so I just went from there.”

   Filomena’s lips parted in an amused grin.  “You’re amazing.”

   “So are you.”  He leaned in for a chaste kiss, and then got up from the table, with Cesare still cradled in one arm.  “I’m hungry, and you probably should be too.”

   She leaned back and smirked at him.  “More tired than hungry.”  He turned and looked at her with an expression of worry, and she started laughing.  “You look like a father, just there.”

   Shiro laughed shortly.  “My crew would agree with you.  They think I don’t know, but they call me ‘Space Dad’ behind my back.”

   “Quite a compliment.”

   “It makes me feel old.”

   She giggled at him.  “You have a hundred things to make you feel old.  That shouldn’t be one of them.”

   “Oh?  Why not?”

   “You’re old enough to be a father.”  She shrugged.  “Granted, not the father of a teenager, but…”  She smirked.  “I’ve been thinking about Cesare’s black hair.”

   Shiro smiled and reached to run his fingers through the baby’s soft hair.  “What about it?”

   “You know it runs in my family.”

   “Yes.”  

   “But… since genetics are a difficult subject for a small child… I could just tell him he got it from his father.”

   Shiro’s smile dropped, and he looked up at her.  She had that shy smile again, and he was beginning to understand what it meant.  She was asking permission for something.

   And just like that, any certainty he had gained from talking to Matik was gone.  “Me?” he asked.  The question came out at almost a whisper.

   She shrugged again, but the gesture seemed forced.  “My father’s grandmother was Japanese.  That’s where we get it.  But Cesare is three months old now, and his hair color hasn’t changed, even though it should have.”  Her expression became a little worried.  “I love my son, Takashi.  I wish I didn’t have to tell him what his father did to me… to _us_.”

   Shiro looked at the baby.  He saw it, then; the slight almond curve to his eyes, and the tired tear-wells that angled down next to his slightly flattened nose.  It would be a convincing lie, wouldn’t it?  “You’d rather have me,” he acknowledged quietly.  “I’m… I’m honored.”

   “You’re terrified.”

   He glanced at her, but had no real retort.  She had read him as easily as Matik, if not more so.  “Shouldn’t I be?”

   “Sure.”  She shrugged again.  “Considering the gravity of my request, I can’t blame you.”  She scooted out of the booth and stood in front of Shiro, and held her arms out for the baby.  “He tried to imprint on Keith, but… your red paladin seemed to think you’d be a better choice…”

   “I can’t.”  His words stopped her.  Shiro shook his head.  “I can’t make a decision this big right now.”  He shuffled Cesare into her arms, and winced when the little boy whimpered.

   “I don’t expect you to.”  She gently caught him by the arm.  “Take as much time as you need.  I won’t judge you if you decide against it.”

   He met her gaze again.  She meant it; she wouldn’t judge him.  She’d be disappointed, but that was different.  And what Shiro saw in her eyes then, an acceptance as broad and enduring as time, made him want her all the more.

   He leaned in and kissed her a little too hard.  It was a frantic gesture meant to convey how grateful he really was to be part of their lives, but it came out feeling more rushed and desperate: I want to, but I’m not ready for this.  He wished he could stay with her and accept that role instead of just being a placeholder; a name whispered in bedtime stories, reverent as prayer.

   And Filomena understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *snort* Space Dad. 
> 
> It's a little early, but my son (Wally) has a birthday this weekend, and I won't be able to post. Enjoy!


	79. “El Mañana” - The Gorillaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro puts the pieces together

   Filomena did not mention her request again, which was just as well.  Shiro needed time to be focused on other matters.  He hoped that the answers would come to him through osmosis with the other passengers, or maybe through the white noise of his background thoughts.  Either was better than agonizing over a decision he wouldn’t be able to force.

   He ate with her, shared sweet nothings and small talk, gossip and stories of home, and then she let him go about his business with a good-morning kiss.  Dull domesticity; oh, wouldn’t that be nice?

   His first stop was the bridge, where Coran was working on his console at the helm.

   Shiro looked around.  “It seems awfully empty up here.”

   Coran looked up.  “Oh!  Good morning, Shiro!”

   He smiled warmly.  “Good morning.  Where is everybody?”

   “Pidge and Hunk are aboard the slave ship to do some research, Keith and Princess Allura are feeding the slavers, and Lance is _supposed_ to be helping Matik in the sleep chamber.”

   Shiro raised an eyebrow.  “‘Supposed to be’?” he asked.  “What is he doing instead?”

   Coran chuckled.  “Apparently not being very good at it.”  He shrugged.  “He wouldn’t freely admit it, but he knows more about human anatomy than he’s willing to discuss.  I suppose that’s due to his family situation.  The problem is that’s where his experience ends.  Matik doesn’t like having to teach him the ropes _and_ be a competent medic at the same time.”

   Shiro shrugged slightly.  “At least he’s trying.”

   “Oh, that’s certainly true.”  He folded his arms and smiled under his mustache.  “All the rushing around he’s doing is pretty comical.”

   “That sounds about right.”  Shiro laughed under his breath.  “What about me?” he asked.  “What should I be doing?”

   Coran thought.  “Well, if I’m right, Keith and Allura should be finished with their chore soon.”  His eyes narrowed tiredly.  “And, if I’m right, we’ll also hear more from -”

   Shiro waved his hands to stop him.  “Don’t tell me.  I’d rather wait and see what happens.”

   The redheaded man shrugged.  “As you like.  If I were you, I’d go help Pidge and Hunk.  They could probably use your insight.”

   Shiro scratched his head.  “I’m not sure how I’ll be able to help.  I’m not much of an engineer.”

   “Well, I hope you’ll trust my judgement, then.”

   Shiro shrugged.  “It’s as good an errand as any.”

   Coran nodded.  “That it is.”

   The ride back to Aepsis’ surface was short but emotionally taxing.  The black lion was happy to see Shiro, if a little concerned.  She couldn’t understand what was bothering him.

   “You’re a giant robot lion.  It’s okay that you don’t understand.”  He had meant it to be soothing, but Black sent a reproachful zing back at him.

   I need to understand my pilot.  I need to know what action is in his best interest.  Let me in.  Let me see.

   He sighed.  “Fine.”  Shiro shut his eyes and let her peruse his mind.  

   She was as gentle as a secretary thumbing through a filing cabinet, but when she found what she was looking for, a sense of wholehearted amusement filled him like laughter.  

 _That’s_ what’s bothering you?

   “You’re not helping.”

   I am conveying my lack of concern.  The woman has offered you a compliment.  At the moment, you shouldn’t read further into it.

   “I can’t help it,” Shiro mumbled sheepishly. 

   I know.  You wouldn’t be my paladin if you were any other way.  The Grey was right, you know.  You’re not like him.

   “Then why does it feel so _wrong_?” he asked.

   Is nature wrong?

   Shiro cocked one eyebrow.  “I don’t understand.”

   Your emotions have begun to affect your physical desires.  That is natural.  Is nature wrong?

   “I… I guess not.”

   Then you shouldn’t use your desires as an excuse to liken yourself to Hayze or anyone else.  You’re not them.  You’re you.

   Shiro sighed.  He could feel her wrapped around his shoulders like a comforting arm.  “What should I do?”

   Make a decision.  

   He groaned.  “ _Which_ decision?  I’ve been given several.”

   She seemed amused again.  At the moment, a decision- any decision- is all that matters.  It is the freedom to choose that is confusing you so, and that is what upsets your balance.

   That didn’t help, but Shiro didn’t tell her so.

   Not long after that, Hunk let him into the slave ship, out of the battering winds.

   Shiro let out a noise of relief.  “I thought the particle barrier would keep the wind out!”

   Pidge turned and glanced at him from the cockpit.  “It does, mostly.”  She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Didn’t you wonder why Keith crashed?”

   “Not until just then.”

   Pidge groaned and rolled her eyes.  “Come see what you make of this.”

   “What are you looking at?” Shiro asked.

   The girl turned to look at her screens again.  “We took the footage from the workshop and enhanced it so we could see your exploding collar chip, and I was trying to cross-reference the images with files on the slavers’ intranet.”

   “Any luck?”

   “Yeah, maybe.”  She pulled up a three-dimensional blueprint of the device, enlarged to show individual pieces.  “Still, I can’t read much of the script, so I’m relying on my image search.”

   Hunk squeezed into the cockpit with her and sat down.  “Judging from the blueprint, it doesn’t look like it was intended to explode.”

   Shiro let his shoulders drop.  “That’s a relief.”

   “But there is a laser mounted inside it.”

   The black paladin looked up.  “What?”

   Pidge made a noise in her throat as a stack of photographs popped up on her console.  “I got it!”  She began scanning through the images one by one, humming at intervals.

   Shiro looked over her shoulder.  “They’re all…”  His expression went flat as his gaze flicked from one posed figure to the next.  “They’re clothing lines.  These are all fashion models.”

   Pidge pointed at one of the items of clothing one model was wearing.  “Yeah, but look there.”  A tiny silver square was mounted on the collar of the pretty alien’s blouse.  “Looks like it was supposed to be a security measure against shoplifters.”

   Shiro looked at her.  “Oh.  Like those dye tags you find in some old stores on Earth.”

   “Yeah,” said Hunk.  “Except if you tried to remove the backing on one, these were originally engineered to burn small holes in the fabric, so they couldn’t be resold.”  He glanced at Shiro.  “The problem is, fabric burns at a much higher temperature than flesh.”

   Shiro made a face.  “I guess that didn’t go over well.”

   “That depends on who you ask,” Pidge said.  “These pictures are several decades old.  They took these tags off the mainstream retail markets a long time ago…”  She paused.

   “And after that,” Hunk dutifully finished for her, “they were picked up and modified by merchants with fewer scruples.”

   “Modified… _how_?” Shiro asked slowly.

   Hunk choked on the thought.  “W-well,” he began, “the laser is much stronger than its ancestor’s, and they don’t have a backing.”  He looked sadly up at Shiro.  “That thing was pressed against Miela’s _skin_ , Shiro.  Probably a major artery or… or even her spinal column.”

   Shiro started backward as he realized what that meant.  “I could’ve killed her just by removing her collar.”

   Hunk shook his head.  “Not her, no.  Her chip malfunctioned at some point before we met her.”

   Shiro cocked his head.  “How can you tell?”

   Pidge glanced at him from over her shoulder.  “Well, the chip has a secondary security measure.”  She pulled up a small diagram for Shiro to examine.  “They’re supposed to react based on how far they are from a certain hub.”

   Shiro scratched his head.  “Then… we could have endangered every one of the slaves we brought on board.”

   “We could have,” she answered, “but for some reason, none of the other chips have reacted.”

   Hunk shrugged.  “Either those chips have a very long range, or we brought the hub on board with us when we captured the slavers.”

   Shiro hummed thoughtfully.  “That makes sense.  Raxxan probably has it on him.”  He looked at Pidge.  “Is there any way to remove the chips?”

   “A strong electrical impulse would probably do it.”

   He gave her a dry look.  “Any way to do it _without_ electrocuting the people we saved?”

   “We’d have to deactivate the hub.”

   “That’s a better idea.  How many chips are online?”

   “That’s where things get a little weird,” said Pidge.  “There are sixty-three chips online, and we only brought sixty-two prisoners on.”

   “So… is one Filomena’s?”

   “No, hers would be offline.”  Pidge looked up at him again.  “Did we leave someone behind?  Did I miscount?”

   Shiro studied the screen for three more ticks, his eyes growing wide as he slowly began to understand everything.  His head was beginning to hurt again.  He removed his helmet and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.  Why couldn’t Hayze have just _said_ something?  Finally, he looked up again with a sigh.  “It’s not your fault,” he finally said.  “We miscounted.”

   “We?” Pidge asked.  “I’m the only one who ever did a head count.”

   “It’s great that you’re ready to take responsibility for this, Pidge, but…”  He sighed and rubbed his head again, running his fingers through his white hair in exasperation.

   Pidge stared at him.  “But what?”

   Shiro sighed and slipped his helmet back on over his head.  “Can the hub monitor anything else besides distance?” he asked.

   Pidge shrugged.  “Probably anything.”

   “Even speech?”

   She raised one brown eyebrow at him.  “It’s possible.”

   That could explain it.  “I need to talk to Princess Allura,” he muttered.  “If my theory is correct, we’re going to have some serious problems.”


	80. “Breakdown” - Seether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayze's secret is revealed at last

   “Are you sure about this, Shiro?” the princess asked.   
   They had had a quiet, intense conversation without the other paladins. As much as Shiro respected his team, none of their opinions mattered anymore; and that was including his own.  
   “I won’t be sure until it’s done,” Shiro replied softly. “It’s one of the few answers I’ve come across that makes sense every way I look at it.”  
   Allura folded her arms. “Other than, ‘He’s a psychopath and he’s just toying with us’?”  
   Shiro smirked at her sarcasm. “That’s definitely still an option. But at this point, I’d say it’s better to find out for sure.”  
   She sighed. “You’re probably right. We can’t afford to take that risk.” She opened the door to the quiet room and led Shiro into the hall before removing her earpieces.  
   The rest of their team was waiting for them in the dining room, all of them still dressed in their uniforms. Miela and Hunk had made dinner, and then the young woman had taken her baby and left to join Matik and the other slaves in the sleep chamber. When she was gone, Shiro gathered the other paladins and led them back down to the holding cells.  
   “Are you okay, Shiro?” Keith asked. “You barely ate anything.”  
   “I’m nervous,” the black paladin admitted. “And, considering what we’re about to do, I’d say that’s appropriate.”  
   “Does this have something to do with one of the slavers not eating?” Keith asked.  
   Allura glanced at him. “Yes,” she answered. “Today marks the second day he’s refused a meal.”  
   “So?” Keith asked. “He’s probably not happy to be in there.”  
   Lance shrugged at the comment. “I hate it, but I agree with Keith. Two days without food won’t hurt him.”  
   “Another day without water might,” Allura chided him. “I don’t know about his species, but humans can only survive for a few quintants without being properly hydrated.”  
   “No water either?” Lance mumbled. “Okay, you might have a problem, there.”  
   Hunk rolled his eyes. “Can’t I just tell them your theory?” he grumbled. “The waiting is killing me.”  
   Shiro looked at him over his shoulder. “I’d honestly rather wait and see if it’s worth saying anything. If I’m right, you’ll see for yourselves soon enough.” He stopped in front of Hayze’s cell door and raised a hand to stop them. “Weapons out. Keep your guard up.” He glanced over his shoulder at each of them. “And be very, very careful what you say.” On that note, he aimed a meaningful glare at Lance.  
   “Dude, why are you glaring at me?” Lance asked defensively.  
   Pidge would’ve folded her arms if she weren't holding her bayard. “You need me to make a list?” she asked.  
   “Enough,” Shiro said quietly. “Get ready.”  
   Allura stepped forward and raised her hand to the door panel. It slid open, and all five paladins braced themselves for what they thought might as well be a wild animal. There was the slow shuffle of feet, and then Hayze slowly slid into the bright light of the corridor, ducking the doorway so that the tip of his left ear preceded him out of the cell. He stood to his full height, what Shiro thought might be about seven and a half feet, and glanced expressionlessly from face to face. After a few ticks, he wordlessly held both hands out in front of him.  
   Allura took that cue and placed a pair of electromagnetic cuffs around his wrists.  
   “You should have killed me, Princess.”  
   Allura twitched backward at the sound of his voice, but she wasn’t quite fast enough to get out of his reach. Hayze grabbed her by the wrist and gave her arm a firm tug.  
   Keith was swift enough to lunge in and set the point of his sword against the young Galra’s throat. Hayze stopped, still holding tightly to Allura’s arm.   
   “Don’t threaten her,” the red paladin snarled.  
   Hayze flicked his yellow eyes at Keith and pressed himself into the tip of the blade. Keith’s eyes widened as the sword met resistance. “It wasn’t a threat,” Hayze corrected. He turned his gaze back on Allura.  
   What was he doing? The princess stared at him until she was able to fight the tension in her legs. He wasn’t planning on hurting her, was he? After a moment, she let him pull her closer, reaching her hand up to the collar of his suit. What if Shiro was right, after all? What would that mean? She unfastened the clasp on his neckline and peeled the fabric down, one inch at a time, until a broad line of silver winked at them from under his clothes.  
   He had hidden the collar so well, no one would ever have known.  
   Shock rolled over the paladins. Shiro had known, as had Allura, but it didn’t keep the revelation from plowing into them like a meteorite. The young Galra trainer was a slave, as much as Filomena or any of the others.  
   Lance’s mouth dropped open, and he inhaled.   
   At the first sound that came out of the blue paladin’s mouth, Hayze’s eyes widened, his shoulders tensed in an unmistakable expression of terror.   
   “Whaa-?”  
   Hunk quickly clapped his big hand over Lance’s mouth.  
   “I’m gonna start on that list,” Pidge mumbled.  
   Allura was still staring at Hayze. He was still holding tightly onto her wrist. Was there something else he wanted to show her? She narrowed her eyes at him. “You have information we need. I expect you to tell us, or there will be dire consequences.”  
   “You think you can frighten me. That’s cute.” He chuckled menacingly under his breath, but there was no pleasure in his expression.  
   Allura shook her arm gently, and he released her. “We found out about the collars the hard way,” she said. Hayze’s eyebrows came up and together, eyes widening in horror, and she shook her head at him. It was a lie.  
   He let out his breath silently. That was relief. “They’re just slaves. Their lives are nothing to me.” His tone was perfectly careless, but his expression was relaxed again. He gently reached out and redirected her hand to the center of his chest. Under his clothes was a lump of something hard.  
   “How do we deactivate the collars?” Allura asked. She tapped the hard spot with one fingernail.  
   Hayze was silent.  
   That was fine. She could stand to sell it a little more. “I could just kill them all,” she said flippantly. “My aim was to stage a hostile takeover, of sorts. I can run a cleaner, more efficient operation than you, anyway. As long as it puts you out of business, it makes no difference to me.”  
   “You have the capital to replace them?” Hayze asked, almost disinterestedly. “How nice for you.” He undid two more clasps on his suit and pulled it away to show them a teardrop-shaped device hanging against his sternum.  
   Allura turned and jerked her head at Pidge, who was staring, dumbfounded, at the situation going on before her. The girl quickly came to and trotted forward to examine Hayze’s collar. She chanced a look up at him, but decided she was too intimidated to hold his gaze for long.  
   She knew before she even plugged into it that she was looking at the central transmitter, if not the master hub of the entire operation. She looked at Allura.  
   The princess sighed. “Fine. Since you’re not going to help us willingly, we’ll have to do this the hard way. Pidge?”  
   Hayze looked down at the green paladin. “I sincerely hope you enjoy yourself.” He meant that one; she could tell because of the shame in his face.  
   The girl blew a raspberry defiantly at him. “You’re not enough of a challenge for that.”  
   Hayze smirked appreciatively at her, and gave her a little nod.  
   Pidge drew back and aimed her bayard at the high center of his chest.  
   Green electricity wrapped around Hayze, and he shrieked, his body seizing involuntarily. He dropped to his knees, out of breath. “Is… Is that the best you can do?” He laughed and tapped the device on his chest again.  
   “Again,” said Princess Allura.  
   Pidge obeyed, and this time Hayze didn’t scream; he didn’t have the energy. He just growled, a sound that ended in a whimper, and collapsed on the floor in the middle of the corridor. “N-no,” he breathed. “You’re doing it all wrong. Haven’t- Haven’t you ever done this before?”  
   “Again.”  
   Pidge looked up at her in question, but the princess just shrugged helplessly. There must be a reason he’s still talking like this. The girl reluctantly obeyed, sending a final current into the collar around Hayze’s neck. For a moment, Hayze stopped breathing, and then he coughed once, and passed out.  
   Pidge stood upright and stared down at Hayze’s figure, draped over the threshold like a giant rag doll cat. After making sure he was unconscious, she looked up at Allura. “Please don’t ever make me do that again.”  
   “I’ll try not to,” she said apologetically. “I honestly didn’t know it would come to that.” She turned her gaze back down at Hayze. “Is that thing still on?” she asked.  
   The green paladin shook her head. “Not according to my readings. I must have shorted it out. I should be able to study it without any risk now, and we can find out if the chips are offline or not.”  
   Allura breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent. Let’s get him back into the cell. I’ll need Pidge to stay with him if she’s going to study the device.”  
   It took Shiro and Hunk’s combined strength to move Hayze back into his cell.  
   “I kinda feel sorry for him now,” Hunk said after they’d put the unconscious alien down. “He’s been holding up that act for so long, he’s probably become the character he plays.”  
   Shiro looked at the floor. He could understand that better than most, but he didn’t say so. He sighed. “What am I going to tell Filomena?” he murmured.  
   Hunk looked up at him. “The truth?” he suggested. “I mean, it totally sucks, but she deserves to know.”  
   Pidge shot him an indecipherable look. “Do you wanna do it?” she asked.  
   “Of course not.”  
   “Then don’t say it like it’s so easy.” She looked down at Hayze again, and went back to working on the hub.  
   “I’m still confused,” Keith said. “Why would he act like a slaver when he’s not one?”  
   Lance finally took off his helmet. “Yeah. He doesn’t carry himself like a slave, and they had him in a pretty high-ranking position, to be able to move as freely as he did. They even let him carry a weapon.”  
   Shiro stared down at the alien on the floor. The situation reminded him of something, but at the moment he couldn’t seem to pin the thought down. He sighed and rubbed his head tiredly. “I need to think. I need to figure out what I’m going to say to her.”  
   Allura spoke up. “Let me worry about that.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll talk to her.” She glanced at Pidge. “Can you tell if the chips are offline?”  
   Pidge hummed to stall her, and then made a more affirmative sound. “They’re all off. We can start removing the collars now.”  
   “Great,” said Shiro. “Keith and I can go get started on that. Hunk, Lance, you stay with Pidge in case Hayze wakes up.”  
   “What happens if he does?” Pidge asked.  
   Shiro raised an eyebrow at her. “Probably nothing. It takes one shock to take down a full-grown man, and you gave Hayze three. If he wakes up, he’s going to be tired and extremely sore. He probably won’t have the strength to fight.”  
   Lance shrugged. “And if he does, you can just shock him again.”  
   “Lance…”  
   Pidge cut Shiro off. “I’ll more likely shock you if you don’t keep your mouth shut.”  
   Shiro rolled his eyes. “Lance, I need you to keep watch. Don’t make her mad.” He gestured at Keith, and the two paladins and Allura stepped out into the hall.  
   The princess stopped Shiro with a hand on his shoulder, and Shiro glanced at her. “I’m serious, Shiro. Delivering bad news is… something I’m used to.”  
   “I should be there,” he said. “She trusts me.”  
   “All the more reason you should let me tell her,” said Allura. “If you tell her, she might see that as a betrayal, and… that would drive her away.” Shiro looked at the floor, and she slowly went on. “I know where this is leading, Shiro, and I want you to be on good terms with her when… when she-”  
   “Don’t.” The black paladin swallowed and shook his head. “Don’t.”  
   Allura watched him fight down his emotions for a moment, and then she too looked at the floor. “When you finish removing the collars, I think you should take some time to think. You need a plan for how to handle this.”  
   He glanced at her, and then nodded. “I understand.” He took in a shaky breath and looked down the hall at Keith. “Don’t come and get me, then,” he said. “Let me do this in my own time. No deadlines.”  
   Allura sighed. She didn’t like this, but she could allow Shiro a little space. He had almost certainly earned it. “As you wish.”


	81. “Wicked Man’s Rest” - Passenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura and Pidge discuss theories, and then the princess delivers the news to Miela as best she can. Filomena does not take it well.

   Allura stayed with Pidge for a few doboshes after Shiro and Keith left, while Hunk and Lance talked softly outside the cell.  “What have you found out?” she asked the girl.

   “In the thirty ticks since you last asked me?” Pidge mumbled.  “Well, aside from the fact that I’m still processing the ‘Hayze is a slave’ revelation, I’m starting to see why he didn’t _look_ like one.”  

   Allura tilted her head in question, a movement that the girl couldn’t have seen.  “Why is that?”

   The green paladin dug at the palm-sized device with one of her tools.  “This thing is wired for sound, just like Shiro thought.  Someone was listening to every conversation Hayze ever had with anyone, probably for the last ten years, given the data storage capacity of this thing.”  She cocked her head.  “It’s weird that there’s no camera in it, though.”

   The princess looked over at the unconscious Galra.  “He chose his words so carefully, but I’m starting to understand exactly what he meant.”

   “Huh?” Pidge looked up at her.

   “He thought I was Filomena,” she explained.  “When we were fighting, he told me her return meant death for those she tried so hard to liberate.”  She pointed at the module on Hayze’s chest.  “If that is the anchor, then the farther away the slaves were from him, the more likely their deaths became.”

   Pidge kept digging.  “If you’re right, then that means Hayze has been trying to keep them alive.”  She made a face.  “And- ugh, that leaves a bad taste in my mouth- all Filomena ever understood was that he was condescending and overcomplicated and violently neurotic.”  She rubbed her head.  “Aw, man.  Now I’m _really_ understanding why Shiro’s so upset.”

   “Oh?”

   “If what you’re saying is true, then Filomena threatened everything in his life; the lives of all the people he cared about, his life, and maybe even his chances at freedom.”  She dropped the transmitter on Hayze’s chest and rubbed her face with both hands.  “And when whatever happened that made her attack him, he just snapped and attempted to control her the only other way he knew how, and oh god, I’m never going to get that image out of my head now.”

   Allura cocked her head in the other direction.  “I’m lucky to not have such a photographic imagination.”  The thought made her shudder, though.  The sheer violation of the idea; someone pressed too close against her, unwanted warmth breathing through her skin; made her want to throw up.  

   She rubbed her arms as the chill moved through her.  “What am I going to tell her?”

   “Well, I was a little harsh with Hunk, but he wasn’t wrong.  The truth would be better than anything else.”  She looked up at Allura.  “It’s all in how you phrase it.”

   Allura knew that already, but it didn’t keep her heart from pounding.  After a mere thirty doboshes of planning what she was going to say, she made up her mind.  She dutifully took step after step down the hall toward the sleep chamber, where she knew she would find Filomena.  No matter what happened, how Filomena reacted to this news, it would be better to get it over with quickly.  She only hoped that she wouldn’t lose a friend in the process.

   She found Filomena surrounded by her peers, chatting amicably while she tilted a bottle of something pale blue into her baby’s mouth.  The princess stood and watched her for a dobosh or two, letting the woman have her few moments of happiness.  Miela chuckled tiredly at something one of the other aliens had said, and she noticed Allura standing in the doorway.  The princess tensed involuntarily, but relaxed again when Miela smiled at her.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

   Filomena got up and trotted over to Allura.  “It’s good to see you.”

   Allura cocked one eyebrow.  “Oh?  You just saw me yesterday.  Did something happen in the mean time?”

   The brunette looked sheepish for a moment.  “I think I may have frightened Takashi.”

   Allura looked surprised.  “I was under the impression that he stayed frightened,” she quipped.  “I seriously doubt you could have worsened it.”

   “You noticed it too?” Filomena asked.

   The princess lowered her eyebrows at her friend.  “It’s fairly obvious.”  Her expression relaxed.  “I wonder, though, what makes you say that?”

   Miela averted her eyes.  “I may have suggested he stand in as Cesare’s father…”

   “You did _what_?”  Miela flinched at her volume, and Allura covered her mouth.  “I’m sorry, that was probably an overreaction.”  She braced her fingertips together.  “You mean you suggested using him to represent Cesare’s genetic history?”  Miela nodded, and she went on.  “Was this a proposal of marriage?” she asked.

   “No, not as such.”  Miela looked at the floor.

   Allura sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I needed some clarification.”  She smirked.  “The two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

   “Perhaps I should explain that to Takashi,” Miela mumbled.  “I… I just didn’t want to expose my son to… the true circumstances of his birth.”

   Allura looked at the floor.  “It’s true, then.  Hayze did something… unforgivable.”  She shook her head.  “I’m afraid this brings up a subject I’ve been dreading to talk about; his judgement.”

   Filomena looked up at her.  “You really intend for me to decide his fate?”

   “I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean,” Allura replied.  “That being said, I think there's something you need to know.”

   Miela’s forehead creased in worry.  “What is it?”

   Allura paused for a few ticks while she tried to decide which idea to express first.  “Before I get into that, I have to ask…  Did you ever notice,” she began, “that he was overly cryptic?  That he might not have always made sense?”

   “All the time,” said Filomena.  “He expected us to just _know_ things.”

   “Did he ever scold you?”

   The woman cocked her head.  “Ye-… well, now that I think about it, not directly.  There were things he didn’t like us doing, but instead of scolding us, he’d degrade us… make us feel guilty, or threaten us…”

   “‘Your return means death for those you tried so hard to liberate’,” Allura quoted.

   Miela looked up.  The princess had repeated every inflection so perfectly that the phrase sent chills down her spine.  “Y-yes!  Just like that!”

   “Did you ever wonder why?”

   Filomena rolled her eyes.  “Constantly.  But at the time, I was too busy staying out of his reach to think much on it.”  She studied Allura’s face for a few ticks, and then narrowed her eyes.  “Why do you ask?”

   Allura sighed.  “He’s not who you think he is.”

   Her friend’s expression became wary.  “You’ve spoken with him.”

   “Very briefly.  Not enough to know anything of his character.”

   “Then what do you mean?”  Her tone had grown defensive barbs.

   The princess looked at the floor.  This was exactly what she was afraid of.

   “Allura?”  Her tone was still wary, but there was something worried in it now, as if she knew exactly why the princess had grown quiet.

   The Altean woman looked up at her.  “I was afraid to talk to you about this, because I knew what he’d done to you.  I didn’t want you to think I was taking his side, or that my opinion of you had changed, and I’m… I’m so scared that I’ll lose your friendship just by telling you what we found out.”  She could feel her eyes watering at her admission.

   Filomena watched her for a few more ticks.  Finally, she narrowed her eyes.  “Where is Takashi?” she asked.  “Why is he not here with you?”

   “I asked him to let me tell you.”

   “Why?”

   Allura looked even more apologetic.  “I should just show you.”  She waved Filomena over to the control tower in the center of the room, and pulled up a screen with a wave of her hand.  With a few gentle touches, she pulled up the security cameras for the Galra trainer’s cell, and then she stood aside for her friend to take a look.

   Miela studied the screen for a few long seconds, and then inhaled sharply when she saw it.

   Allura took that to mean she’d seen the collar.  “Shiro’s the one who discovered it.  He had wanted to tell you himself, but… I insisted on doing it.”  She looked at the floor.  “He’s a mess, Filomena.  I wish you could see what this is doing to him.”

   She was still staring at the screen.  “So you told him to let you take the fall.”

   “I think I should point out here that there’s not a fall to be taken.”

   The woman was quiet for a few ticks.  “Perhaps you’re right,” she eventually murmured.  The brunette finally lifted her green-eyed gaze to hers, and then flicked at something behind Allura.  The princess turned around to look at the Grey, who had appeared behind her.  “You knew,” Miela whispered.  “You knew he was a slave… that he was _just like us_.”

   Matik blinked at her.  “I’m bound by oath, Filomena.  Patient privilege is part of what I do.”

   Filomena met Allura’s gaze once before she set the baby in the princess’ arms.  “F-Filomena?”

   The woman averted her eyes.  “I’m sorry.  There’s something I have to do.”  She walked a few paces toward the door.

   “Filomena,” Matik said gently, “don’t do anything rash.”

   She spun on the medic.  “Why?” she asked.  “Would _any_ of you judge me?”

   Matik hung her head and didn’t answer, and Filomena turned toward the door again.

   “Filomena,” said Allura, “we don’t blame you for being angry.  I know I would be.  I hate how much he hurt you; how he hurt _all_ of you.  But you’re better than that.  You’re better than him!  Filomena!”  Her voice rose, louder and louder, until she was yelling down an empty hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hayze is in for it...


	82. “Behind Blue Eyes” - The Who

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayze wakes up, Hunk is maybe a little too sweet, and Filomena is furious

   Waking was slow and painful for Hayze.  He could barely breathe; every muscle trembled when he tried to move, and that included trying to expand his ribcage.  He coughed gently, but even that hurt.

   “If you so much as blink without warning me, I’m going to zap you again,” said the girl’s voice.

   Hayze let his breath out and finally opened one yellow eye.  “D-don’t blame you.”  He groaned and tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but it was too difficult to move.  “How long have I been out?”

   “Just a few doboshes.  You shouldn’t even be awake yet.”  She looked up.  “Hey, Lance!”

   Hayze groaned.  “Oh, gods, not the loud one.”

   Pidge harrumphed.  “Normally, I’d agree with you,” she said, “but I’m not taking any chances.”  She leaned in and picked the pendant up off his chest as Lance rounded the doorway and entered the cell.  “I turned off your transmitter.  You should be able to speak normally.”

   Hayze was quiet while he studied the green paladin.  When she finally looked up at him, he smirked.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “It’s been such a long time… I’m not sure what I should say.”

   Pidge gave him a dry look.  “Nothing’s as good an option as any.”  And with that, she went back to studying the transmitter.  “You’ll have plenty of time to explain yourself later.”

   Lance made a face.  “Not so sure I wanna be around for that.”

   “With any luck, we won’t be.  That’s for Shiro or Allura to do.”

   Hayze flicked his eyes at her again.  “Shiro… that’s the black one?”

   Pidge refocused on him, but decided to ignore the question and went back to work.

   The Galra’s voice was breathless.  “H-he was the one to figure it out, wasn’t he?”  His muscles trembled again, and he inhaled sharply.

   “Be still,” Pidge griped.

   “I c- I can’t.”  He took in another gasp, and his chest shuddered as his breathing quickened.  “M-my chest h-hurts.”  The next breath came out almost in a sob.

   Pidge fumbled the device and dropped it on Hayze’s chest again, and a flash of fear crossed her face.  “Is it the transmitter?  Did I do something to it?  Is it arrhythmia?  What is it?”

   Hunk’s big hand pushed her aside.  “Move over.”  He took Hayze’s handcuffs in one hand and pulled both the Galra’s lanky arms up toward his face.  “Cover your nose and mouth,” he ordered.

   Hayze cupped both hands over his face.

   “Now breathe.”

   “It’s h-hard.”

   Hunk nodded.  “I know.  It’s supposed to be.”  He wrapped his fingers as far as he could around Hayze’s wrist and tested the thrum of his pulse.  That was something he wouldn’t be able to fake.  As he had expected, Hayze’s heart rate was almost frighteningly fast.  “You’re _panicking_ ,” Hunk decided.

   “Th-that’s ridiculous,” Hayze objected from behind his hands.  “The Galra don’t … p-panic.”

   Hunk sat back.  “I don’t care what you call it.  Your heart rate just skyrocketed, and you lost control of your breathing.”

   Hayze tried to stifle a sob, and managed to halfway muffle it in his throat.  “C-call it _that_ , then.”

   Hunk rolled his eyes.  “If anyone’s an expert on anxiety on this ship, it’s probably me.”

   Hayze swallowed and breathed heavily into his cupped hands, and blinked twice.  “My vision’s getting blurry.”

   Pidge looked urgently at Hunk.  “Do I need to go get Coran or Matik?”

   The yellow paladin waved nonchalantly at her.  “Nah.  Go sit outside the cell for a few doboshes.”  He looked up at the blue paladin.  “You too, Lance.  Do you mind?”

   Lance raised an eyebrow.  “Are you sure about this?”

   “I’m sure.”

   “Okay.”  There was a lyrical note of uncertainty in his voice that translated to, “It’s your funeral.”

   When they were gone, Hayze blinked up at Hunk.  “Wh-what are you doing?” he gasped.

   “Giving you some time to feel.”  He raised an eyebrow at the alien.  “I may not know the whole story, but it looks to me like you’ve been burying your feelings for a long time.  It’s not healthy, and yes, it can cause panic attacks.”  He pointed a finger at Hayze.  “And before you say anything, that _is_ what that was.”

   Hayze choked on another breath and slowly brought his knees closer to his chest.  “I don’t… I don’t know this feeling.”

   Hunk shrugged.  “It’s probably a lot of things all balled up into one.  You’re going to have trouble processing it all at the same time.”

   “W-what’s going to h-happen to me?”

   “Probably the same thing that happens to me.  You’ll burst into tears and cry until you feel better.”

   Hayze removed his hands from his face.  “I’m _not_ going to…!”  He stopped mid-thought as he watched Hunk’s figure blur through the moisture in his eyes.

   Hunk looked at him knowingly, and then looked at the clock on his gauntlet and got to his feet.  “The waterworks will begin in approximately fifteen ticks.  I’m gonna give you a few doboshes alone, and I’ll be back with some food and water.”  And with that, he walked out and shut the cell door behind him.

   Pidge turned and looked at the yellow paladin as he came out.  “Dude, how are you not terrified of him?”

   “I _am_ ,” Hunk informed her.  “But what I saw just then…”  He looked at the floor.  “You know I used to have bad panic attacks as a kid, right?”

   Pidge and Lance stood a little straighter.  “No,” said Lance, a little more softly.  “I had no idea.”

   Hunk raised his hands.  “He’s scared, and he’s caught up in something too big for him to handle alone, even though he’s been trying for… who knows how long?”  He shrugged and looked at the floor.  “I saw that person in there, and it didn’t matter what he had done.  I just… I saw a scared little kid, and I knew I had to help him.”  He exhaled and drew himself upright with a conviction only Hunk could portray.  “Now, I’m going to do just what I said, and I’m going to get him some food.”  And then he turned and walked off in the direction of the kitchen, noting with some pride that he could feel Lance and Pidge staring at his back.

   He came back from the kitchen with a massive serving of food goo and water, and two cannoli as a treat.  Instead of sliding the tray through the slot, he opened the door and went in, with Pidge and Lance behind him.

   Hayze pushed himself into a seated position and wiped his face on the back of his hands.  The skin around his eyes had darkened a shade further, and his eyes were tired.  “Y-you could have knocked,” he chided.

   Hunk shrugged and set the food down on the floor in front of him.  “Feeling better?” he asked.

   Hayze shook his head.  “Not yet.  It’s too soon.”

   “Eh.  That figures.  Think you can eat?”

   “I… I don’t know.  I’m still feeling like I just came out of a wormhole.”

   The yellow paladin rolled his eyes.  “I know that feeling well.  Still, you should try.”

   Hayze glanced at the food on the floor, raised an eyebrow, and picked up one of the cannoli.  “What is this?”

   “It’s a dessert,” Hunk explained.  “It’s sweet.”

   Hayze sniffed it once and then delicately touched his tongue to the gold cream that was peeking out of the little tube.  Then his eyebrows went up, and he took a big crunchy bite out of the pastry.  “It’s good,” he announced, licking the corners of his mouth.  “What is it?”

   “They’re called _cannoli_ ,” said Hunk.

   Hayze seemed startled, and dropped the other half of the pastry on his plate.  He stared at it for a moment, and then looked up at Hunk.  “I’ve heard that word before.”

   Hunk sighed as he realized the alien was talking about Filomena.  “Yeah, I guess you have.”

   The young Galra put his hands on his knees and averted his eyes from the plate.  “She… She made those?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Does she know you’re giving them to me?”

   “No.”

   Hayze let out a rough, rueful chuckle, but Hunk could hear a shudder under his voice.  “I’m sure she’d be upset if she found out.”  He swallowed and touched his hands to his face again to calm himself.  “She’s going to kill me, isn’t she?”

   Hunk’s eyebrows came together in sadness.  “I don’t know.”

   Lance picked up the conversation.  “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I think a little more highly of her than that.”

   Hayze smirked sadly.  “You have a lot of faith in her.”

   Pidge looked up at him.  “Why shouldn’t we?”

   He flicked his yellow eyes at her.  “All I’ve ever given her is reasons to hate me,” he said.  “Given my current circumstances, a swift death is more mercy than I deserve.”

   Hunk cocked his head.  “Well, I can understand why you might panic over that.”

   The Galra shook his head.  “No, that’s not the cause.  The reason most Galra don’t panic, as I said before, is because we do not fear our deaths.”  He swallowed.  “No, right now, the thing I am most afraid of is my _freedom_.”  He inhaled sharply and covered his face again, but quickly recovered his composure.  “I have been a slave for fifteen years,” he said.  “I… I don’t know how not to be one.”

   The three of them stared at him for a few ticks, and then Hunk’s broad shoulders lifted in a deep sigh.  “All right, get up.”  He reached down and took Hayze by the arm, and helped pull him to his feet.  “Slowly,” Hunk warned.  “I don’t want you passing out on me.”

   “I’ll be all right.”

   Hunk led him slowly out into the hall.  Lance still had his rifle trained on Hayze, and Pidge had gotten out her bayard to make sure nothing happened on her watch.  But Hunk just turned to face Hayze.  “I can’t take your handcuffs off,” he said apologetically, “but I want you to take a deep breath.”

   Hayze blinked at him, and then obeyed, taking in two massive lungfuls of air.

   Hunk waved a hand at him.  “No, no, not like that!”

   The Galra let his breath out.  “You said take a deep breath.”

   The yellow paladin lowered one eyebrow at him, and then sighed.  “Close your eyes.”  Hayze gave him a suspicious look, and Hunk’s tone rose defensively.  “I’m not going to hit you.  Close your eyes.”  Finally, the alien obeyed.  “Now, I want you to listen very carefully.  I know you’re scared, and yes, I know there’s no way I can gauge that against the things I feel.  But if you live through this, then there’s something on the other side of this… _perdition_ ; something better waiting for you.  So take a deep breath, and _enjoy_ it.  Because, if nothing else, you can _smell_ your freedom from here.”

   And Hayze breathed, a slow, deep breath through his nose that raised his shoulders and expanded his ribs until they hurt.  He couldn’t take enough of that in.  The yellow paladin was right; the air was sweeter out here.  At first he thought Hunk might be right, and it might just be his yearning to break away from this cycle of suffering.  But then a hint of overripe fruit caught his attention, and he stopped and opened his eyes.

   “What does it smell like?” Hunk asked, a little pleased with himself.

   Hayze turned his head and looked down the hall.  “She’s coming.”

   “What?”  He turned and looked over his shoulder, and immediately understood what Hayze meant.  

   Filomena had just turned the corner.  Her eyes were wide with fear, but that expression was quickly replaced by rage.  She sprinted down the hall toward them, ducked Hunk’s attempt to restrain her, and delivered an unimpeded punch up under Hayze’s jaw.

   The Galra trainer stumbled sideways until he met the wall opposite his door.

   Hunk sprang on that moment and wrapped both arms tightly around the woman, who then began yelling phrases that didn't quite translate.

   “ _Stronzo_!” she spat venomously.  “You _filth_!  How _could_ you?”  Hunk tightened his grip on her, but she just struggled harder.  “You could have told us!  You could have been _kind_!  Coward!Traitor!  _Porco Giuda_!”

   Lance lowered his rifle a hair.  “Hey, now…”

   She didn’t seem to hear him.  “ _Li mortacci tua_!”

   That comment raised the blue paladin’s eyebrows, and he leaned forward and shouted at her.  “Filomena!  That’s enough!”  He lowered his rifle and pointed a finger at her.  “I don’t care who he is, you will _not_ insult someone’s family!”

   The woman stopped struggling.  The rage in her features was slowly replaced by the expression of someone who has been crushed over and over, until vindication is no longer pleasurable.  Then she let herself sag in Hunk’s arms, and began to cry.  Aside from her breathing, she made almost no sound; she was too distraught to even scream.

   Hayze found his balance and stood up, but didn’t say anything for some time.  Finally, he looked at the floor.  “There is no insult too harsh, is there?” he asked, without expecting an answer.  “I don’t blame you for wanting to hurt me; it would only be fair.”  He glanced up at her.  “But… one thing I know for certain is that you would not enjoy it.”

   She glared up at him through her tears.  “You don’t know me.  You don’t understand a _bean_.”

   He granted her a bruised smirk.  “Don’t I?  We’ve been in close proximity for four years.  I may be a brute, but I’m not stupid.  I’d like to think I’ve learned something of your character in that time.”  He looked at the floor.  “And I know there’s nothing you’d like less than to be a monster like me.”

   “You _made_ me a monster.”

   “I tried,” he admitted.  “I had thought I failed.”

   Filomena watched him as he crossed the hall and stepped back into the confines of his cell.  “They’ve left your judgement to me,” she said.

   Hayze glanced over his shoulder, not quite meeting her eyes.  “Do what you must.”

   The woman looked at the floor.  “I will, _Doctore_.”  She sharpened that last word to a point, and attempted to jab him with it.  All three of the paladins looked at her.  All of them seemed to understand the word, but for some reason it hadn’t translated.

   Hayze blinked, and turned away again.  “Close the door,” he murmured.

   And with that, Pidge touched the control panel, and the door slid shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations here:  
> Stronzo: okay, seriously, don't call people this. It means "piece of s#!+"  
> Porco Giuda: usually used as an expression of frustration, not for name calling, but I thought it was fun. It means "Pig Judas," which is kind of appropriate here.  
> Li mortacci tua: this is an insult to one's ancestors. As in, "I curse your parents for giving birth to you." Definitely not nice.
> 
> As a side note, Filomena comes from a town where strong language is fairly common; Vicenza, the City of Gold.


	83. “You’re Still You” - Josh Groban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Shiro's absence, Keith somehow manages to be the voice of reason. Filomena receives an unexpected boon.

   Shiro and Keith finished their rounds, and then the black paladin disappeared into the castle, though to do what, Keith wasn’t sure.  The red paladin was better at thinking on his feet; acting and reacting in ways that felt true to himself.  But Shiro was more complicated.  So it kind of hurt for him to realize there was no way for him to help his friend and mentor.  The black paladin would have to come to his own conclusions.

   Keith finished removing the last prisoner’s collar and sighed, and then stowed his bayard.  He had dried more tears today than he had his entire life, and this thing they called _empathy_ was exhausting.  At least he was getting better at it.  Maybe.

   What would Allura have him do next?  Without Shiro to direct him, he felt aimless and nervous.  He got up and looked around.  Each of the prisoners had reacted differently to having their collars removed, and so there were a few broken pieces scattered across the workshop floor from those who had chosen to let that part of their lives go.  He stepped over each piece, kicked one or two out of his path, and went out into the hall.  There was one more collar to remove, and he was dreading facing its owner.  He shook his head.  Never mind.  Let Pidge do that.  She knew what she was doing, and the last thing that needed to happen was for him to screw it up.

   So he took a few minutes to change back into his casual clothes, and went looking for his friends.

   He found them in the kitchen, huddled in a small knot around Miela and Cesare.  The woman looked as if she had been crying again, and Hunk, Pidge, and Lance were all still wearing their uniforms.

   “What’s going on?” Keith asked.

   Allura, who stood over Miela’s left shoulder, looked up at him.  She patted the brunette’s shoulder once, and then crossed the room to recount the story to Keith.  “She didn’t take the news well,” the princess said.  “I doubt anyone would’ve, though.”

   Keith nodded his understanding, and then approached the table where his friends were gathered.  Instead of sliding into the booth next to Filomena, he knelt in the floor beside her.  He watched her for a moment or two, and then smirked.  “Did you give him what-for?” he asked.

   She flicked her green eyes down at him.  “I punched him in the face.”

   Keith laughed shortly.  “I wish it had been me,” he said.  “How did it feel?”

   Miela shook her head and began rocking on her hips, forward and back.  “I didn’t feel anything.”  She sniffed and bent to press a kiss to Cesare’s forehead, more to reassure herself than to calm his quiet fussing.  “Maybe that’s what’s bothering me.  I thought I’d feel better, feel righteous.  But I don’t.”  She sighed.  “All this time, I thought he was cruel because it came with the power of his position; a slaver and a fighter.  And now…”  She shook her head.  “Nothing is as I thought.  What am I supposed to think now?”

   Keith shook his head.  “Nothing, Filomena.  You’re not supposed to care.”  She looked down at him, and he went on.  “Who you are and what you believe doesn’t have to change based on who he is… or isn’t.”  He chewed his lower lip in thought.  “He hurt you in one of the worst ways you can hurt a human.  That changed you, and that’s fine.”

   “Fine?” she asked uncertainly.

   Keith smiled at her.  “You’re beautiful, talented, smart… and you’re a wonderful mother, despite everything he put you through.  You’re still you, and we _like_ you.”  He sighed and looked away.  “Now, that being said, you don’t have to forgive him now that you know the truth.  He’s still a horrible person, no matter what his reasons were.  You can hate him forever… _if_ that’s what you really want.”

   She stared at him.  The red paladin, guardian spirit of fire, was telling her this.  She raised her eyebrows.  “You think I shouldn’t?” she asked.

   Keith shook his head.  “Oh, I’d never let something like that go.”  He raised a fist.  “I wish I could’ve been there when you hit him.  I’d have loved to have seen that.”  He smiled at her.  “But you’re not me, Filomena.  You have to make that decision for yourself, and you have _literally_ forever to do it.”  He reached up and put his hand on her shoulder.  “No matter what, we’ll support you.”

   “Speaking of support,” Pidge said, “I’ve put together a fund for Cesare, using Raxxan’s investments.”

   Miela looked stunned.  “W-what?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Th-thank you!”  She glanced at Cesare.  “I wasn’t sure what you were going to do with the money; I kind of figured you’d split it among us.”

   “Most of the other prisoners come from planets that don’t recognize GAC as legal tender, so you got the _lion’s share_.”  Pidge wiggled her eyebrows and nudged Lance with her elbow.  “Get it?”

   The blue paladin folded his arms.  “Looks like I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

   Pidge looked dismayed.  “Really?  You never would’ve jumped on that one.”

   Lance cut his eyes at her and gave her a smug smirk.  “So… since Miela’s too polite to ask, I’ll bite: how much is in it?”

   “It doesn’t matter,” Miela said quickly.  “I’m grateful you thought of us.”

   Hunk reached over and grabbed Lance by the ear, and the blue paladin yelped.  “You’re gonna make her uncomfortable,” Hunk chastised.

   Pidge raised an eyebrow and slid into the booth across the table from Miela.  “Still, I should probably tell you, and relate that to monetary terms you’ll understand.”  She cut her eyes at Lance.  “We’ll do that when you’re not in danger of being mortified by Lance.”

   Lance tugged gently on Hunk’s arm, careful not to hurt his own ear.  It didn’t work.  Hunk refused to release him.  “Aw, come on!  I’m not gonna embarrass her!”

   Pidge twisted her mouth at him, and then sighed and folded her arms.  “All right, but you have to promise to _literally_ keep your mouth shut.”

   “My lips are sealed.”  Lance made a zipping motion across his mouth.

   The girl studied him a moment longer, and then looked across the table at Miela.  “You’ve inherited a grand total of one point four billion GAC.”

   Hunk blinked at the green paladin.  “In _Euros_ , Pidge.  How much is that in Euros?”

   She scratched her head and thought.  “Well, let’s see… somewhere around thirteen million five hundred thousand.  But I’m rounding down.”  Lance’s mouth dropped open, and Pidge jabbed a finger at him.  “Mouth shut, Lance.  You promised.”

   But she conveniently forgot to mention Hunk, who released Lance’s ear in his surprise.  “Holy crow!” the yellow paladin exclaimed softly.  “Miela… You’re _rich_!”

   If anything, Filomena looked more embarrassed, nervous at the responsibility of managing that fortune.  Her eyes welled with tears, and she clutched Cesare closer to her chest.  “W-what am I going to do with all that?”

   Keith chuckled and rested his hand on Cesare’s head.  “We’ll help you make a list.  That way you can budget every coin, if you want.”

   Pidge folded her arms.  “Maybe not every coin,” she murmured.  “I think Miela should be able to have a little fun with her ill-gotten gains.”

   Allura hummed and studied her friend.  “You know, I think Pidge is onto something, there.”  Then a light went on behind her eyes, and the princess smiled.  “We could make a trip back to the swap-moon; do some shopping.”  She winked.  “You did promise me we could play some dress-up.”

   Keith turned and looked up at her.  “After last time, I’m pretty sure we won’t be welcome,” he said.

   “Yeah,” said Hunk.  “I’m pretty sure Sal’s still sore about me fleeing the scene.”

   Lance folded his arms.  “Pidge and I could go.  So could Shiro, if he’s up for it.”

   Allura glanced at the floor.  “You can ask him if you want, but… I promised him I wouldn’t disturb him.”

   “Should I try to talk to him?” Filomena asked.

   The princess looked up and shook her head.  “No.  Although that has worked well in the past, I think we should let him have his space.  Maybe he’ll finally understand that he has to lean on others sometimes, if he ever wants to be happy.”

   Filomena sighed and brushed her hair behind her ear.  “That seems like a very difficult conclusion to come to.”

   Pidge looked around at all of them.  “I guess that means we have some time, then.”  She clapped her hands and smiled.  “So.  Who wants to take a trip to the mall?”


	84. “Somewhere Only We Know” - Lily Allen (original by Keane)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro have a meaningful conversation

   It was Keith who finally gave in and went to retrieve Shiro.  He had waited as long as he could, until late in the evening, but eventually he recognized his teammates’ stalling for what it was.  None of his fellow passengers were willing to break that silence.  Even Miela, whom Shiro clearly favored, shifted the responsibility to someone else.  Allura had asked her not to interfere, and that was that.

   He didn’t mind that Shiro wanted his alone time; Keith had always been something of a loner, and the need for personal space was something he understood.  But it worried Keith that the thing isolating Shiro from the rest of the team was a woman.  That was unusual; almost as unusual as it was for the black paladin to lose his temper.  And Shiro had done both in the same week.

   The black paladin was not in his quarters, so Keith wandered the castle after most everyone else had gone to bed.  He checked the pool, the training deck, and finally he sighed and tried Black’s hangar.

   The black lion was crouched low, her mouth open as if in invitation.  Keith raised an eyebrow.  Were _all_ the lions going to act weird this week?  He stared at the black lion for a few ticks before taking a preparatory breath and climbing the steps.

   “Shiro?  Are you in here?” he called.

   The black paladin broke away from his thoughts and turned to look at Keith over his shoulder.  “Hey,” he said, a little surprised to know the black lion had let someone else in.  “What’s up?”

   Keith put his hand on the back of Shiro’s seat.  “Is this where you’ve been for the last couple vargas?” he asked.

   Shiro made a noncommittal noise and turned to face his screens again.  “The last couple, yeah.  I haven’t been here all evening.”

   “We missed you at dinner.”

   Shiro smirked.  “Did they cook tonight?”

   The red paladin snorted.  “Nope.  Just food goo this time.  I guess there was just too much to do.”

   Shiro nodded his agreement.  “I guess we can’t expect them to cook all the time.”

   Keith was quiet for a few more ticks, when suddenly he realized Shiro was avoiding looking at him.  The red paladin sighed.  “What are you doing here, Shiro?” he asked, with the quiet resignation of a question he didn’t really want to ask.

   “I needed to think.”

   Keith folded his arms.  “And you honestly thought the black lion was going to let you?” he asked.

   His mentor answered by letting out a sigh and running his fingers through his hair.  “You got that right.  She’s been awfully opinionated lately.”

   “Lately?” Keith asked dryly.

   Shiro’s voice hardened just a bit.  “Well, I thought I’d try to ask different questions, or ask for clearer answers, or _something_ ,” he griped.  “I mean, all I’m getting so far is ‘Make a decision’, and…” he sighed.  “I guess… I’m not sure how to do that.”  He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, waiting for Keith to say something, but the red paladin was stubbornly silent.  Shiro rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “The deeper I get into this mess, the more I see of myself in these people,” he mused.

   “Well, yeah,” Keith said.  “They were prisoners, just like you.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “No, that’s not what I mean.”

   “You mean Miela and Hayze.”  There was a familiar defensiveness in Keith’s tone.  “I guess I can kind of see where you’d identify with her,” he said, “but not him.  You’re nothing like him.”

   “Keith, if you knew half the things I’ve done…”

   The red paladin cut him off.  “Stop treating me like a child!”  Shiro glanced up at the anger in the boy’s face.  “If there’s something you did that even _remotely_ connects you to Hayze…”  He stopped suddenly as he recognized guilt in his friend’s face.  

   Shiro turned away.

   Keith studied the back of Shiro’s head.  “You know why he did it, don’t you?” he asked, his tone softening again.

   The black paladin paused for only a moment before nodding.  “Yes.”  He sighed deeply.  “It doesn’t exonerate him, but I saw his reason behind it.”  He shook his head, but couldn’t go on with that thought.

   “You’re nothing like him, Shiro,” Keith said again.  “No matter what happened while you were imprisoned, you never crossed that line.”

   “Of course I did.”

   “You never made Matt _hate himself_!” Keith finally snapped.

   Shiro twisted around to look at him, astonishment plastered on his face.  After a moment of tense silence, Shiro mouthed a single quiet word.  “What?”

   “Don’t you get it?” Keith asked angrily.  “You might have hurt him, but you made your intentions abundantly clear after, didn’t you?”

   “I…”

   “ _Didn’t you_?”

   “Yes.”

   Keith’s shoulders relaxed a little.  “Miela has had a _year_ to settle into the notion that Hayze took everything from her, right down to her dignity.  And now she’s upset and confused, because…”  The boy stopped to swallow and take a breath.  “You’re right.  Hayze could’ve been a good man, like you.  He could’ve told her the truth, and been as protective and supportive as possible under the circumstances, but he wasn’t.  He would rather have made her hate herself _and him_ , rather face his feelings and _maybe_ lose her.”  He scowled at Shiro.  “All this confusion you’re creating for yourself is something Filomena deals with _constantly_ , and although I’m starting to get that you empathize with her, you have no business doing this to yourself.”  He took another moment to breathe.  “She needs you, Shiro.  And right now…”  He shook his head.  “You’re not there.”  He looked at the floor.  “And… I can’t be you.  Not for her.”  Keith sighed and wiped the hair out of his face.  

   Shiro’s eyebrows came together in worry.  There was so much Keith wasn’t saying.  I’m jealous of you; I’m angry that you’re making me step in for you: contradictory ideas that quietly informed Shiro just how closely Keith was following in his footsteps.  He looked away.  “I don’t expect you to.”  The black paladin rose from his seat.  “I’m sorry.”   He stood there for a moment and watched the red paladin, waiting for something.  Maybe Keith would yell at him some more.

   But he didn’t.  The red paladin just folded his arms and looked away.  “We’re making a stop at the swap moon in the next couple days.  Pidge, Lance and Allura were going to take her shopping.  I was kind of hoping you’d snap out of it and go with them, since you didn’t get to see it last time.”  He glanced up at Shiro with a wary smile.

   Shiro sighed and allowed himself a smile.  “I’ll think about it.  After the trouble you guys got in last time, I might have to add that to my list of things to worry about.”

   Keith groaned and rolled his eyes.  “Like you need that.”


	85. “Try” - Colbie Caillat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the space mall takes a (somewhat) expected turn...

   Shiro managed to do as Keith asked, and snapped out of his self-doubt for the duration of their flight to the swap moon.

   Pidge opted to stay aboard the ship and do what she considered “actual work” while they were gone, a phrase which earned her a reproachful glare from Shiro.  As usual, the parental warning glance had no effect.

   Miela was nervous, and it was easy to tell.  She fidgeted in as many ways as she could until Shiro called her over to sit down next to him.

   “What’s got you all wound up?” he asked.  He couldn’t help but chuckle at her restlessness.

   “A few things,” she admitted.  “I’m worried I’ll be recaptured, firstly.”

   “Even though you’ve never been here?” Shiro asked.

   “That makes no difference.  If I’m recognized, for my scars or anything else, then that puts us all in danger.”  She clenched her fingers in the kneepads of her suit, and then wiped the sweat from her palms.  “Second, I’m worried that all the money that was siphoned from Raxxan’s accounts will leave a paper trail, of sorts.  He’s _missing_ , now.  I don’t know how they conduct investigations like that, but on Earth… a good detective follows the money.”

   Shiro took her left hand and patted her knuckles soothingly.  “One thing I’ve learned out here is that the Galra Empire has a monopoly on most industries, including slavery.  What Raxxan was doing was somewhat frowned upon, since they obviously don’t like competition.  They won’t miss him, and they’ll probably be glad his money is back in circulation.”

   “But… what am I going to _spend_ it on?” she asked, her voice tense and high.

   Shiro shrugged.  “Who says you have to spend it at all?” he asked.  “As with Earth currency, it’s what you can _earn_ with your money that’s often more important than what you can buy.”

   Filomena sighed.  “I’m sorry.  Money in general makes me nervous.  I don’t like the worry that comes with it.”

   Shiro chuckled.  “Good thing that Allura and I have a better affinity for it, then.”

   Filomena’s eyes lit up.  “That gives me an idea.”  She tapped her wristband and pulled up the account screen Pidge had set up for her.  “I can make you and Allura authorized users on my account.  Then you’ll both be able to advise me on potential investments.”

   “Does that mean we can make purchases on your behalf?” Princess Allura asked.

   Miela nodded.  “Absolutely.  I’d be grateful that someone besides me is making use of it.”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.  It was a pretty good idea, and if she trusted them with that responsibility, then he had no reason to argue.  Besides, that was a lot of money.  It wasn’t like the three of them could spend it all in one day at the swap moon.  He rethought that and glanced at Lance, who was playing with Cesare on the other side of the escape pod.  Never mind.  Lance could probably spend it all in a couple vargas.  The black paladin smirked and rolled his eyes.

   There was a tense period of a few doboshes when they exited their ship at the main hangar, but no one seemed to take much notice of them.  They walked down the corridor into the main building, and Miela ran to the edge of the observation platform and looked out over the large, open space.

   “What do you think?” Allura asked.

   One side of Filomena’s mouth twitched upward.  “It feels… familiar,” she mused.  “We have shopping centers like this on Earth, but I’m sure none of them are this big.”

   Allura chuckled.  “According to Coran, it wasn’t always this big.”  She took her friend by the arm.  “Now come on.  Let’s go find you some clothes of your own.  After all, you promised we could play a little dress-up.”  She turned and looked at Lance and Shiro.  “If you boys find that boring, I’m certain there are other shops around here to entertain you.”

   Lance grinned.  “Are you kidding?  I’ve got all the entertainment I need, right here.”  He dug his fingers into Cesare’s ribs, and the baby giggled and raised his arms to defend himself from the tickling.  “Besides,” said Lance, “I have a few ideas for Miela, too.”

   Allura gave him a reluctant look, but didn’t argue.  If he wanted to tag along, he could.  She looked to the black paladin.  “Shiro?  What about you?”

   “I’d actually like to have a look around,” he answered.  “I’ll let you guys have your fun for a couple vargas, and I’ll find you later.”  He affectionately tucked Filomena’s hair behind her ear, and then set off into the outlet.

   “Huh,” Lance mused.  “I figured he’d at least kiss you goodbye or something.”

   Miela shrugged.  “He prefers discretion, and I respect that.”

   “As do I,” Allura cut in.  “I can’t even imagine Shiro showing that degree of affection in public.”

   Lance’s face twisted at the idea, as if he wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or interested.

   “Besides,” Filomena continued, “I’m happy with what he gives me.”

   Lance turned and began to lead the way.  “Suit yourself.”  He hummed thoughtfully.  “We need some baby supplies.  Do you think they have anything like that around here?”

   “I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Allura.  “Let’s see what we can find.”

   Together they perused most of the shops along the ground floor, and bought a few useful items; a carrier for the baby, a bassinet, and some reusable diapers from a vendor that had probably seen too many different species of children in her time to notice that Cesare might be a little different.

   “He’s cute,” she remarked, letting the little boy play with the tip of one of her tentacles.  “Does he resemble you or his father more?”

   Miela flushed deeply, and tried to remember that the merchant meant no offense.  “Me, I think.”

   The shopkeeper winked three eyes at her.  “He’ll make an attractive adult, then.”

   “I… I think so too.  Th-thank you.”

   The baby supplies vendor offered her a discount on vitamin drops and flavored formula in exchange for conversation.  “I usually only get regulars in here,” she explained.  “Accommodating an occasional stranger is refreshing.”

   They thanked the merchant and left as quickly as courtesy would permit.

   “Sorry I rushed you,” said Princess Allura.  “She seemed like she was a bit too interested in us.”

   Miela gave her a sheepish smile.  “I would probably have let her pull me along, if you weren’t here.”  She looked around the massive outlet.  “I’m so lost here, I almost feel like anyone could be a guide.”

   Lance, who was wearing the new baby carrier, gave her a confident jut of his chin.  “Some are better than others.”

   “And you count yourself among the better ones?” Allura asked dryly.

   “Yeah, in that I’m not interested in taking advantage of her.”

   “Kind of you,” Allura grumbled, “but that wouldn’t make you a very good guide.”

   Lance raised one eyebrow.  “Good thing I’ve been here before, then.”  He ignored the princess’ pout and turned to face their path again.

   Allura was quiet for just a moment, and then tugged gently on Filomena’s arm, so that the two of them slowed their pace.

   The woman looked at her.  “What’s up?”

   “It seems a little strange that he’s not flirting with every female in sight,” she murmured.  “He’s usually pretty easily distracted.”

   Miela giggled.  “Are you suggesting we ditch our chaperone?”

   Allura laughed at the reference, but stopped short when Lance called over his shoulder.  “I can hear you,” he sang.

   The princess blushed and covered her mouth, while Filomena laughed even harder.

   “To answer your question, if that’s what it was supposed to be,” Lance explained, “I’m on a mission.”

   “What kind of mission?” Allura asked.  “I certainly didn’t assign you.”

   He glanced at her over his shoulder.  “I’m gonna throw Shiro a curve ball.”

   “Curve ball?”

   Miela turned to her friend.  “It’s a sporting reference.  I think it means to do something unexpected; to bewilder.”

   “Bingo!” said Lance, pointing finger-guns at her.  

   “How do you intend to do that?” Allura asked.

   Lance raised one eyebrow at her.  “Didn’t you say something about playing dress-up?” he asked.  “I’m going to ask Miela to model some cute outfits for us.  Trust me, when we’re done, every ensemble will take his breath away.”  He grinned broadly.  “I’ll bet he’ll be totally speechless!”

   Allura finally granted him a wry smile.  “Maybe that’ll stop him from overthinking everything for a bit.  I like where this is going.”

   Filomena folded her arms.  “That makes two of you.  I’ve broken enough hearts to know where this leads.”

   Lance lowered his eyebrows at her, but his smile remained.  “I’m pretty confident that’s the last thing you want for Shiro,” he said, insinuating something playful in his tone.

   “And just how do you figure that?” Miela demanded.

   Lance came in a little too close, and then bent down next to her ear.  “I saw what was in the box.”  The woman inhaled, but Lance put his hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving.  “I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t.”

   “What do you…”

   “I don’t want anything.”  He backed away and winked at her.  “Just let me have my fun.”

   Miela caved with a deep sigh.  “All right.  But let it be known that dressing myself up for Takashi is not my primary objective.”

   Allura nodded, and Lance grinned.  “All right, then,” said the princess.  Let’s get started.”

   Lance and Allura dragged her to a cosmetics store, and then to a salon.  Filomena refused to cut her hair any shorter, but allowed the attendant to suggest a pedicure.

   The stylist referred them to a shop on the third floor, since they were looking for what might as well have been custom clothing, but they stopped in the food court to refresh themselves before they continued shopping.

   It was there that Shiro found them.  “I see you guys picked up a few things,” he noted.  He glanced sideways at the mound of purchases on their hover-cart.

   Allura raised herself up off her elbows and looked up at him.  “Most of it’s for Cesare.  It was all I could do to get Filomena to buy something for herself.”  She cut her eyes at her friend.

   Miela chuckled.  “Sorry,” she said.  “Back on Earth, I was never this practical.  You might have missed your shot.”

   “Did you buy anything?” Shiro asked her.

   “A few cosmetics, a really nice body lotion, and some bath salts.”

   The black paladin chuckled.  “I never pegged you for a spa girl.”

   “I’m not,” she laughed.  “After these last four years, I’m likely going to use all of my purchases in one bath!”

   Lance and Allura shared a nervous chuckle, but Shiro laughed freely at the thought, which made the younger two stare up at him.  It was odd to hear him express amusement like that; his laughter was usually quiet and shy, or hidden behind one of his hands.

   “Sorry,” Shiro said when he had calmed down.  “I remember feeling the same way when I escaped.”  He stifled another laugh.  “I think that might’ve been the longest shower I’ve ever taken.”

   Lance fed Cesare a strip of a soft, tofu-like mush and looked up at Shiro.  “What about you?  Did you see anything you like?  Ouch!”  He jerked his hand away as the baby bit down on his middle finger.

   Shiro shrugged.  “Not yet.”

   Allura glanced once at Lance, and then smiled up at the black paladin again.  “We were about to head up to the third floor to find Filomena some clothes.  Care to join us?”

   “Sure.”

   The shop was not large, but it was open and bright, with display tables artfully arranged around mannequins that wore the store’s brand.  A pale-skinned alien with black, tendril-like dreadlocks waved a thin, gloved hand at them without looking up from her tablet.  “Salutations,” she mumbled in a monotone.  “Welcome to Weaver’s.”  She glanced up at them through a pair of sapphire compound eyes, and then looked toward the back of the shop.  “Aybee?” her voice was still flat, but it was louder this time.  “Where did you disappear to?”

   A purple face appeared in front of Shiro, its lips parted in a toothy grin.  “Hi and salutations!”  She was only a little shorter than Shiro, with lilac freckles and dimples in her cheeks.  And she was _definitely_ Galra.

   Shiro jerked backward in surprise, but Miela yelped and grabbed his arm, and attempted to hide behind him.

   “There you are,” said the bored alien behind the counter.  “If you scare away our clients, we will dock your pay.”

   The Galra girl, Aybee, puffed out her chest, which was all ribs and no bust.  “They’re not scared of me,” she scoffed, flicking her violet braid over her shoulder.

   “Look again.”  And with that, she went back to her reading.

   Aybee looked at her boss, and then turned to study the group of people before her.  Of the four… no, _five_ of them, three were staring at her, and one was cowering behind the tallest member of their group.  The girl let out a squeak, and her ears shifted backward.  “Apologies!” she mewed.  “I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

   Shiro glanced down at Filomena and set his hand soothingly on top of her head.  Her trembling was radiating into his arm.

   “It’s not your fault,” said Lance.  He crooked a finger at Aybee so that she bent in close to him.  Lance hid his mouth behind his hand and whispered to her.  “Her ex was Galra.  _Not_ a good guy.”  He made a face and shook his head.

   The implications of that half-truth made Aybee’s eyes grow wide, and she stood upright and touched her fingertips to her mouth.  “Oh, sweetie!  I’m so sorry!”  She looked up at her boss.  “Weaver, I think I should sit this one out.”

   “Don’t you need to make your commission?” Weaver asked in her monotone.

   “Y-yeah, but…”

   Shiro waved a hand to get her attention.  “It’s okay.  We appreciate you considering it, but that shouldn’t be necessary.”  He looked down at the brunette clinging to his arm.  “Filomena?  What do you think?”

   The young woman glanced up from over the curve of Shiro’s shoulder.  Aybee was just standing there, both ears cocked downward and her eyebrows drawn together in pity.  The girl looked at the floor.  “I’m sorry if I scared you,” she said.  “I get a little excited.”  She glanced up hopefully at the woman.  “Are they all shopping for you?”

   Allura folded her arms.  “ _Trying_ ,” she emphasized, and she managed to sound playful.  “She’s very hard to buy for.”

   Aybee smirked and jabbed a thumb into her sternum.  “Well, that’s what I’m here for!”  She looked down at Filomena and held out her hand.  “What do you say?”

   The brunette shifted backward a bit and looked at the outstretched limb.  Then she slowly returned her gaze to the shop girl.

   “I’ll bet that, between the two of us, we can find something that looks absolutely dazzling on you.”

   Filomena slowly released Shiro’s arm, and reached up to clasp Aybee’s hand.  Her eyes widened as the girl’s long fingers closed over hers.  She was warm, and her fur was soft.  She didn’t remember Hayze being either, _ever_.  So she looked up at Aybee, and finally felt like she could smile at her.  “Sure.”

   “Great!”  Aybee’s face lit up again, and she spun and dashed across the shop, dragging Filomena along after her.

   “Hey, wait for me!” Allura cried, and sprinted to catch up to them.

   Aybee pulled Filomena to the back half of the store and positioned her in front of a mirror.  “Now, take a look,” said the shopkeeper.  She put both hands on the woman’s shoulders.  “I want you to tell me something you like about yourself.  I need a trait we can emphasize.”

   Filomena stared at the mirror, but she was quiet for several ticks.

   Aybee’s smile faded again, and she patted Miela’s shoulders.  “How about your eyes?” she prompted.  “They’re an interesting shade.  Is that hazel?”

   Miela seemed to brighten a bit.  “Yes, that’s a good one.  They change color, though, depending on the light.”

   “Excellent.  Now one thing- _only one_ \- that you don’t like.”

   She had to pick only one?  Filomena looked at her reflection and thought.  “I’ve got a few… uh… scars.”

   Aybee looked at the ceiling and shrugged.  “Oh, come on!  Scars?  I’ll bet they make you look really tough!”

   Miela gave her a slightly sheepish smile.  “I wish I could see them that way.”

   “Where are they?”

   “There’s a set across my back, one across my lower belly, one around my wrist, and…”  She stopped when she realized she shouldn’t tell Aybee about the scar around her neck.

   But the girl plowed on without realizing Filomena had stopped.  “Okay, I get it.  I don’t want to meet you in a dark alley.”

   Weaver suddenly appeared from behind the freestanding mirror, and Miela squeaked in alarm.  “We really would like to get on with our stitches, Aybee,” she said, ignoring her client’s cry.  “Maybe take some measurements and find her some color schemes?”

   Miela rubbed her chest to try and slow her heart rate.  “Weren’t you just at the front of the store?” she asked.

   “Weaver is part of a hive-mind race,” said Aybee.  “She and her two other clones work in tandem to customize all the clothes in the store.”

   “And they’re all called Weaver?”

   Aybee chuckled.  “Yeah.  Get them all in the same room, and they finish each others’ sentences.  It’s mind-boggling.”  She flicked her eyes down at Filomena’s figure, and then looked at Weaver-number-two and rattled off a set of numbers that must somehow have related to Miela’s measurements.

   Weaver Two harrumphed and folded one set of skinny, gloved arms.  “Your friends have some ideas of what you should be wearing,” she informed Miela.

   Filomena looked over her shoulder at Lance, who had an armful of clothes, and was talking to Weaver One.  Miela sighed.  “I know.  But I promised I would let them have their fun.”

   Weaver Two cocked her head, letting her black dreadlocks trickle over her bony shoulder.  “That’s kind of you,” she said in her monotone, “but don’t let them push you into buying anything you’re not comfortable wearing.”

   It was relieving to hear something as soothing as that coming from the person selling the clothes.  Miela smiled.  “I won’t.”

   To be fair, Lance had a pretty good idea of what looked good on Filomena.  His choices in clothes were on the casual side, things made more for comfort; but he threw in a few dresses into the mix as well.  His first outfit was a pair of jeans, a green jersey turtleneck, a white cardigan and sneakers.  The next was a brown cowl-necked sweater dress, wide belt, leggings and ankle boots.  The third was a coral-patterned romper, a tee shirt, and a choker necklace.  Filomena dutifully tried all of them on, but nixed the third one before she even left the dressing room.

   “It’s cute,” she stammered, “but it’s too revealing for me.  Allura could probably pull it off.”

   Aybee reached over the top of the dressing room door and waited for Filomena to hand her the outfit.  “Don’t force it, honey,” she said.  “We’re happy with whatever you choose.”

   Filomena was right about the romper.  Allura looked even cuter in it, if that was possible.  She came out of the dressing room next door, and Lance’s face went red.  “I might have to think about buying that one,” the princess giggled.

   Princess Allura’s tastes were both utilitarian and elegant.  She had Filomena try on several daytime dresses and skirt suits in black, gray, and tan, all of which had discreet pockets.  Possibly her best effort was the business-casual outfit, a pair of brown slacks with a billowing navy shirt and stilettos.

   Shiro nodded approvingly at intervals, suggested slight color changes, and provided gentle corrections for when Lance, Allura, or Aybee chose something a bit too experimental.  But the only things he picked out for Filomena were accessories; a scarf here, a bangle there, a vest or a cardigan.  None of the outfits seemed to really faze him, though.  He kept his focus on the task set before him, and stayed well within Miela’s guidelines.

   Lance and Allura stood together outside Filomena’s dressing room and shared a quiet conversation while Filomena donned another outfit.

   “This… doesn’t seem to be working,” Allura noticed.

   Lance scratched his head.  “Yeah, I saw that.”  He looked at the princess.  “I kind of figured that gray pencil skirt would’ve done it.  I mean, did you see her _legs_?”

   Allura smiled.  That was one of her outfits.  “I know.  She has a very pretty figure.”  She looked up at the door.  “But Shiro won’t fall for just anything.”  She folded her arms.  “It’s getting late, and Cesare’s going to be hungry again soon.  We’ve got time for maybe one more outfit.”  She cut her eyes at him and drew one corner of her mouth up in a sly smile.  “What do you say we do this last one together?”

   “I love it.”

   “What are we doing?” Aybee asked.

   Lance jumped at the sound of her voice, then spun and shushed her.  “Not so loud,” he hissed.  He took Aybee by the arm and pulled her down a little closer. “The big guy out there is Filomena’s new boyfriend.  He’s really cool, but almost completely unflappable.  We were trying to…”  He made a high noise in his throat as he tried to figure out the right words to say.

   “Oh, I get it,” Aybee purred confidentially.  “You’re trying to get him to _confess_.”

   Lance pointed at her.  “Ooh!  That’s a good way to put it.”

   The Galra girl rubbed her hands together.  “Well, I’ve gotta tell you, if you want your man level-headed and totally steady, there’s this dress in the back that you _will not like._ ”  She winked to emphasize her point.

   Allura leaned forward interestedly.  “Well, let’s see it!”

   “Yes, mistress!”  Aybee gave the princess an overstated salute, and was off like a shot.

   She was back a few ticks later, carrying a long sheath of white fabric in both arms.  “Sorry,” she said breathlessly, “I had to dig for it.  Its original owner reneged on it at the last minute, so it’s on clearance.”

   “So much the better!” Allura said.  “Hold it up and let’s see!”

   Aybee held it up.  It was almost as long as she was tall, sleeveless, with a perfectly flat neckline that cut straight from shoulder to shoulder.  The shop girl turned the dress around, revealing a cowl of wispy white lace that gathered in a ripple at the shoulder blades, and a train full of white appliqués that dragged the floor.

   Lance stared at it for a moment.  “Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say this out loud, but I’m not sure she’ll dig the sleeveless cut.”

   Allura glanced at him.  “That’s your only holdback?”

   “Pretty much.”  He grinned.  “Go ahead and give it to her.  I still wanna see.”  He turned and went back into the main section of the shop, and asked Weaver to open up a locked cabinet full of jewelry.

   Filomena needed help putting on the dress.  As soon as Allura handed it to her, the woman gave the dress a stunned look, and then quickly invited her friend into the dressing room.

   “Are you sure about this?” Allura asked, closing and locking the door behind her.  “I wouldn’t want to seem immodest.”

   Filomena smiled shyly.  She was wearing a long dressing gown, along with whatever was underneath it.  “I don’t seem it, but I’m really not terribly modest.  I’m just…”  She turned and looked across the large, comfortable dressing room at her reflection in the mirror.  “I’m not terribly confident in my looks.”  She sighed a little, shook her head, and unzipped a tiny section under the left arm of the dress before handing it back to Allura.  “Please hold this.”

   Allura did as she was asked, and looked up as Filomena removed the dressing gown.  Her friend was wearing  common, unadorned and mostly unimpressive undergarments, but Allura’s eyes widened at the four discolored stripes that angled across her middle back.  The princess inhaled and quickly averted her gaze.

   “You don’t have to do that,” Filomena said quietly.  “We’re both girls.  I’m sure it’s nothing we haven’t both seen before.”

   Allura understood that she was attempting not to talk about the scars.  Both of them knew who had made them, and there was no sense talking about him here.  So the princess looked up again.

   Filomena lifted the train of the dress and tunneled her way up until her arms came out under the straps, and her head came through the neck hole.  “It’s lighter than I thought it would be,” she mused.  “But this is… _very_ formal, don’t you think?”

   Allura shrugged.  “Most of what I wear has approximately this degree of formality,” she said.  “I’m afraid I’m not a very good person to ask.”

   Miela looked in the mirror, and touched the base of her throat.  “It shows my scar…”

   There was a knock at the door, and Allura reached over and quickly zipped up the dress before Filomena answered the summons.

   Lance and Cesare were at the door, with one of the Weavers close behind them.  Lance had Filomena’s makeup bag in one hand, and the baby was gnawing on a teething biscuit.  Both boys looked up at her and grinned.  Cesare cooed and clapped his hands, and it was dumb luck that he didn’t fling the soggy teething biscuit across the shop.

   “Wow!” said Lance.  “This is a good one!”  He pushed gently on the door.  “Can we come in?”

   “Uh… sure.”  Filomena backed away from the door to let them in, and turned her focus to Weaver.  It was the first time she had noticed the alien’s full figure; she had four arms and four legs, and her back was bowed sharply over a long, sectioned abdomen, much like a spider.  Weaver entered without looking at the woman, and Filomena shut the door behind them.

   “This is our last outfit,” said Lance, “so we wanted to make it count.”  He shook the bag of makeup at her, and jerked his head at Weaver.  The shop’s owner was carrying a round black case in two hands.

   Miela narrowed her eyes at him.  “What are you planning?”

   Lance scoffed and propped his knuckles on his hips.  “A makeover.  Duh.”  He tossed Filomena the bag, which she caught in her left hand.  “Huh.  I thought you were right-handed.”

   She scowled at him.  “I am.  I _catch_ left-handed.”  She turned around and glided across the room to the room’s modest vanity table, and then opened the bag and began sorting through her makeup.  “Now, if I can figure out what I’m supposed to wear with this thing…”

   “Here,” said Weaver, placing a thin hand on her shoulder.  “Let me.  I made the dress, so I know what goes with it.”  She pressed down gently on Filomena’s shoulder, and the woman slowly sat down in the vanity chair.  “I take it you have never been to a formal event?” the shopkeeper asked.

   Filomena glanced down.  “Well, not never… but it has been awhile, and I’ve never worn something like this.”

   The black-haired alien smirked.  “Then we’ll make this dress something he’ll remember for the rest of his life.”  She set the black case on the vanity, and then picked up a brush and a bottle of foundation, and began layering it onto Filomena’s skin.  Before she got too far in, she glanced up at Allura.  “Can you do something with her hair?”

   The princess’ eyes brightened.  “Certainly!”  She came up behind Filomena and scooped up a handful of her hair, and began playing her fingers through it.  “It’s so _soft_!”

   The woman laughed under her breath.  “Unfortunately, yes.  I can’t do much with it except pull it back.  It won’t hold a curl.”

   Allura smiled knowingly.  “I can think of a few styles we can do, then.”

   Filomena’s uncertain expression didn’t change.  She looked back up at Weaver.  “Are you sure this is all right, Miss Weaver?”

   The arachnid-like alien widened one bright blue compound eye at her.  “To be perfectly candid,” she said, still monotone, “if you’re planning on buying all the outfits you’ve selected, you’ll be spending what most would consider a substantial amount of money.  Helping you with your ensemble is part of our job.”

   At the mention of money, Filomena looked away.  “So… the money helps.”

   “Money always helps,” Weaver replied flatly.  “But I hope you’ll trust us when we say that we have had more fun with you today than we have in the last three Spicolian movements.”

   Filomena was quiet for a few more ticks.  “What am I going to do with it all?”

   “At the risk of being too bold, I suggest you _spend_ it,” said Weaver.

   “Yeah,” said Lance.  “Or you could save it; Cesare’s going to have to go to school in a couple more years.”

   Filomena waited until Weaver put the makeup brush down before shaking her head.  “No, it would take forever to spend it all… And as far as I’m aware, there isn’t a culture on my planet that accepts GAC as legal currency.”  She swallowed and looked back up at Weaver.  “When… _If_ I go home… all that money will be worthless.”  She was quiet while Allura pinned up her hair in a low bun, still as a mannequin while Weaver applied her eyeliner.  But when the alien put her brush down again, Miela inhaled shakily and opened her eyes.  “I’m never going home, am I?”

   Allura met her eyes in the mirror.  “Filomena!  Why would you say something like that?”

   The woman swallowed again.  “It makes sense,” she said quietly.  “When I go home, it’ll be as if I appeared out of thin air.  Questions will be asked, investigations will be made.  If I’m not careful, I’ll be… I’ll be imprisoned.  Studied.”

   “That sounds barbaric,” Weaver noted as she pulled a swab of pale pink lip gloss across Filomena’s full mouth.

   “Most of my people have no idea anything exists outside our planet,” she replied, trying to keep still enough not to mess Weaver up.  “The prospect of anything remotely alien can be frightening.”

   Weaver shrugged.  “I guess that’s fair.”  She began putting the cosmetics back in the bag.  “I’m done.  Take a look.”

   Allura had adorned her hair with pearlized pins and combs that matched her dress.

   “You look lovely,” Allura murmured.

   Filomena flicked her eyes up at the damsel in the mirror.  That wasn’t her.  It was makeup and hair pins and a gorgeous gown on a broken-down, overused doll.  She looked at her hands, folded in her lap.  “It’s a beautiful dress…”  

   “Wait, wait!” said Lance.  “We’re forgetting something!”  He pointed to the round black box that Weaver had left on the vanity.

   Weaver nodded and opened the box, revealing a crashing wave of sparkling rhinestones and pearls on a massive silver choker.  She raised it from the box and turned it toward Filomena.

   “No!”  The woman quickly stood up and backed away.  “I’m sorry.”  She looked at Lance, who seemed to realize at the same moment that Filomena didn’t want anyone touching her neck.  Filomena glanced back at Weaver.  “I…I need a moment.”  She closed her eyes.  “Thank you all for your help.”

   Weaver straightened and followed Lance and Cesare out of the dressing room.  Allura lingered behind, studying the overstressed woman in the white evening gown.  Filomena had a point; anything could happen once she returned home.  Also, having to go back alone, without anyone to corroborate her story, made her situation all the more intense.

   The princess finally sighed and left the dressing room, and closed the door behind her.  She needed to end this game they were playing.

   Shiro was browsing the racks of clothes toward the front of the room and chatting with one of the Weavers.  She cleared her throat, and the black paladin turned and looked at her.  His smile faded when he saw her expression.  “Hey,” he said.  “What’s wrong?  I thought you guys were having fun just a few ticks ago.”

   Allura lowered her gaze.  “We were.  I’m afraid the issue of money came up again.”

   Shiro raised one eyebrow.  “What about it?”

   Allura raised her shoulders toward her ears.  “You know how it affects her.”

   He sighed.  “I do.  What was it this time?”

   Allura told Shiro the whole story, and when she was finished, he nodded his understanding.  “I see.”  He picked up the outfit he had been discussing with Weaver, and turned for the dressing rooms.  “It’s time to wrap this up.”

   He hung the clothes outside the dressing room, set a pair of boots down on the floor beneath them, and knocked.  No one answered, so he knocked again.

   “I said give me a moment,” came a slightly indignant growl.

   Shiro ignored her tone and opened the door.  “Filomena?”  He stepped into the room.  “What are you doing in h-?”  He looked up at the cascade of white silk, and felt the words stick in his throat.  “Ethereal” was the word that immediately came to mind; “angelic” was a close second.  At that moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had sprouted wings.

   At the sound of his voice, Filomena turned and looked over her shoulder at him.  Then, when she saw the awestruck look on his face, her eyes widened in horror, and she spun to face the vanity.

   That seemed to break the spell.  Shiro slowly walked into the room and shut the door.

   That was the last she heard of him.  She knew he was going to close the distance between them now; it was only a matter of how long it would take.  And sure enough, his hands appeared on her shoulders several slow ticks later.

   He deserved an explanation.  Filomena blinked and stared down at the vanity counter.  “Every person who has ever worn that expression for me has regretted meeting me,” she whispered.  She inhaled again, and her breathing was shaky, but she swore she wouldn’t cry.

   “And you think I will?” he asked softly.

   She swallowed.  “Will you?”

   “Our relationship isn’t _over_ , Filomena.  I can’t answer that.”

   She felt Shiro’s fingers trail up over the top of her shoulder and across the scar on the back of her neck, and Filomena jerked her spine straight and reached up to clap her hand down on top of his.  Her eyes met his in the mirror.  For a moment, he looked hurt, but it soon faded to a sad kind of understanding, and his fingers rose into her hairline.  “You look radiant,” he murmured, though he turned his eyes away when he said it.

   She groaned.  “I’m wearing so much makeup and jewelry, it’s a wonder I don’t reflect the light of every star.”

   He chuckled warmly.  “Who says you don’t?”

   “Takashi…”

   Shiro pulled a pin from her hair, and the long tresses billowed down from their neat twist against the back of her neck.  “You wanted to cover your scar, right?” he asked.  She glanced at him over her shoulder, but he avoided her gaze.  He gathered a small section of her hair and pinned it to her head above her ear with an ornate comb.  “The front of the dress does it well enough.  Your hair will cover the back.”

   She turned to try to face him full on.  “Takashi…”

   He bent close, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her.  Instead, he picked up a soft cloth off the vanity counter and handed it to her.  He smirked.  “Lipstick,” he said simply.

   Filomena felt her cheeks grow warm.  “A-ah.”  She broke his gaze and pressed the cloth to her mouth.

   Shiro put a finger under her chin and raised her face.  She was shining for _him_ , and that was more than he could ever have asked for.  He pressed his lips to her cheekbone, and then to her ear.  Filomena made a little sound in her throat at the warmth of his breath, but she didn’t stop him.  Shiro moved to her jawline, working his way down to the scar that peeked above the flat neckline of her gown.

   “T-Takashi,” she whispered urgently.  She curled her fingertips in his vest, but couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

   “You’re beautiful,” he responded.  “Your scars don’t take that away from you.”  He raised himself up and finally kissed her lips.  She still tasted slightly of the lipstick, which had a floral flavor.  Perhaps it shouldn’t have intensified the experience, but it did; her lips were as soft as flower petals, and the silk of her gown softer still.  For a fraction of an instant, he dared to imagine feeling her skin rather than her dress beneath his hands.  A pang of heat flared in his abdomen and his fingers clenched in the side seams of the evening gown at the thought.

   He could get lost in her so easily.  The guilty thought brought him crashing back to reality, and he slowly, reluctantly broke away from her.  He sighed.  “Take it off,” he murmured.

   “W-what?” she asked, her voice nervous.

   Shiro turned around, opened the door, and retrieved the outfit he had left outside.  “The makeup and the dress.  Take it off, and put these on instead.”  He hung the clothes inside the dressing room, and set the pair of shoes on the floor again, and lifted a sad little smile at her.  “Then we’ll go home.”

   Filomena stared at him until he shut the door, and then looked up at the outfit.  It consisted of a flannel shirt in a shade of eggplant purple with an unobtrusive teal pattern, a pair of comfortable jeans, and a pair of rugged boots in what looked like black stingray leather.

   He had been listening, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pic here! I wanted this one to actually look right, so I tweaked it a bit.  
> [The Dress ](https://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/The-Dress-715005053?ga_submit_new=10%3A1510632138)


	86. “Now or Never” - Josh Groban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura sends Shiro on a mission that is more dangerous to his mental health than she realizes

   Filomena came out of the dressing room wearing the outfit Shiro had chosen for her.  As with most of the clothes she had tried on, she looked cute.  But Shiro had somehow known what she was comfortable in, and that made her look more relaxed and confident.

   “You look great,” Shiro said with a warm smile.

   Filomena’s smile spread from ear to ear.  “Thanks to you three.”

   “Did you get everything you wanted?”

   She chuckled under her breath.  “And more.”

   Filomena spent another hour browsing the swap moon for gifts to take home to her friends, and Shiro took that moment to slip away and quietly buy the white dress.  Weaver number three appeared from the back of the store with a white box that would easily be lost among Filomena’s other purchases.

   “I’ve marked this one,” Weaver Three said with a wink.  She showed him a purple mark on the underside of the box.  “Just in case you wish to surprise her.”

   Shiro thanked Aybee and the Weavers, caught up with his party, and slipped the box onto the cart without notice. 

   Filomena dozed on and off for the few minutes it took them to return to the ship, but was awake enough to distribute the gifts she had bought for the other aliens on board.  She forgave Matik for keeping secrets from her, and reaffirmed their friendship with a thick wool sweater and a big hug.

   “I couldn’t think of anything to buy,” Filomena said laughingly.

   Matik folded her arms and looked over at the pile of presents.  “Somebody knew what to buy,” she said.

   “That would be Lance and Allura,” Miela replied.

   Shiro smiled at their conversation, but the expression soon faded.  The black lion’s advice was still playing in his head, making him dizzy.  Make a decision; any decision.  Time was running out.  He rubbed his brow tiredly.

   “You okay?” asked a low, soft voice.

   Shiro turned and looked at Hunk, who had asked the question, and then looked back at Filomena.  “To be honest, I… I don’t know.”  He looked at the floor.  “I guess not.”  He laughed humorlessly.  “That’s what everyone’s been telling me for the past few days, I think.  That it’s okay to… you know… not be okay.”

   “Sure,” said Hunk, raising an eyebrow.  “But you know that means we’re going to try to help you, right?”

   Shiro cut his eyes at him.  “I figured that out.”  He looked back at Filomena.  “But at this point, I’m not sure what’s help and what’s not.”

   Hunk folded his arms and followed his leader’s gaze.  “That makes it pretty hard on the rest of us.”

   “I know.  I wish it didn’t.  I wish I knew what was _right_.”

   Hunk paused and glanced over at Shiro.  “Well, what do you _want_?”

   “I was pretty sure that didn’t matter.”

   Hunk unfolded his arms.  “Well of _course_ it matters.”

   Shiro made a noise in his throat and looked at Hunk.  “What makes you think so?”

   Hunk raised his open hands in a shrug.  “You’re the one who’s used to making the tough decisions.  Everyone goes to you for advice.  But when you need advice, who do you go to?”

   Shiro refocused on Filomena.  “Her, recently.”

   Hunk folded his arms again and lowered one eyebrow.  “I see you’re back to being candid again.  That’s comforting.”  He sighed.  “Anyway, the reason I ask is this: you’re so used to making the hard choices that when you come across a no-win situation like this, you make a decision based on everyone else’s best interests.”

   “Yeah.  So?”

   “So what if, for just once, you got something _you_ wanted out of it?”

   Shiro cut his eyes at the yellow paladin again.  “Like what?”

   Hunk shrugged again.  “I dunno.”  He smirked.  “Maybe just knowing what you want.”

   Shiro wanted a lot of things.  He wanted his teammates to be safe.  He wanted this war to be over.  He wanted revenge.  He wanted inner quietude.  He wanted a lot of things to be true that weren’t, or that couldn’t be.  If he were honest with himself, (and he really didn’t want to be) he knew what he wanted of Filomena, too.  The thought always made his heart race, and sometimes made him feel sick.

   The next morning, he woke up sweating.  That wasn’t terribly unusual, but it wasn’t the nightmares that woke him.  His sheets were hot and sticky, and his hair was matted to his forehead, pulse pounding in his ears.  He could still feel her weight on him, her fingers tracing little lines over his skin.  No more.  He couldn’t indulge those kind of thoughts.  He threw off his top sheet and lay there while he tried to cool down, and finally turned over and buried his face in his pillow.

   Still, he was awake earlier than his fellow paladins, so he rose and dressed, and went looking for advice.

   The black lion was unhelpful, as usual, but she did offer encouragement.

   You’re on the right path.

   He wanted to talk to Matik, but she stayed rather busy that day, and Filomena stayed busy with Cesare and her fellow prisoners.  All he got from her was a loving smile from across the sleep chamber.

   He wanted to kiss her.  He wanted the reassurance, the brief but consummate bliss of her lips on his.  The thought sent a flash of heat into his core, muscles pulling tight.

   After that, Shiro took a moment to collect himself before seeking out Princess Allura.  Perhaps she could help find a way to get him back on track.

   But if anything, her suggestion was even worse.

   She turned and looked up at him with a sunny smile that told him she had rested well after their shopping trip.  “Pidge was able to go through Raxxan’s logs yesterday while we were away,” she said.  “Fortunately, there aren’t any ports on record that openly sell slaves.”

   “Less work for us, I suppose,” Shiro grumbled.

   She raised an eyebrow at him.  “You don’t sound so happy about that.”

   He sighed and shrugged.  “I need something to do.  Something to take my mind off… things.”

   Allura gave a slow nod of understanding.  “I see.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, and then sighed and let his shoulders drop.  “The dress was your idea, wasn’t it?”

   The princess smirked and folded her arms.  “I’m afraid not.”

   “Lance’s?”

   The princess shook her head.  “That shop girl surprised us with it.”

   “I’ll bet that just made your day.”

   She gave him a wry smile.  “It made our whole Spicolian movement.”

   Shiro rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “Why?” he groaned.  “Were you _trying_ to… to…”

   Her eyebrow went up again.  “I’m going to go ahead and say yes.  We were trying.”  She bobbed her head to one side.  “And not succeeding very well, if I’m honest.”

   Shiro groaned again.  “What are you trying to do to me?” he moaned.

   Allura studied him.  “Trying to get you to _enjoy_ yourself,” she said.  “You’re tying yourself into knots for no good reason.  Filomena’s not going to be here for very much longer, so you need to make these last few days count.”  She hummed thoughtfully and considered him a moment.

   “What?” Shiro asked flatly.

   “I’m going to give you your difficult choice for today.  Consider it your _mission_ , if you like.”

   Shiro sighed.  “What?”

   She lowered her chin at him.  “Either you can go talk to Hayze about the slavers’ routines, or you can confess your feelings to Filomena.”

   The black paladin was momentarily stunned.  “Allura!”

   “She’s distracting you, and making every single one of your duties unbearable.”  She raised her eyebrow at him again.  “I asked you to figure this out, and it seems that you have.  Doing something about it is another thing entirely.”

   “You honestly think I’ve figured _anything_ out in the time you’ve given me?” Shiro asked.

   “Everyone seems to think so.”

   “Everyo…”  Shiro stopped in the middle of the thought, and then raised his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes.  “Oh dear god.  Am I really that obvious?”

   “Must I answer that?”

   “You know what?  Please don’t.  I already feel like a complete idiot.”

   Allura dropped her arms, and her eyebrows came together.  “That wasn’t my intent,” she said apologetically.

   “I know, I know.”  He sighed and looked up at her.  “I know you mean well.  I know you all do.  But frankly, I don’t know help from hindrance right now.  Do you know what that means?”

   The princess studied him sadly for a couple more ticks, and then looked at the floor.  “That not even _I_ can force you into making a decision you’re not ready to make.”

   Shiro nodded.  “I’m glad you understand.”  His figure straightened.  “Now, my duties for today.”

   Allura sighed defeatedly and turned away from him.  “My mind hasn’t changed, Shiro.  If you’re willing to talk to Hayze, then go do it.  If you’re able to drag Filomena away from her chores, then go do that.  Either way, I want you at full potential for whatever happens.”

   He raised an eyebrow at her.  “What are you expecting?”

   Allura sighed.  “Her judgement.  She has the remainder of her stay to decide Hayze’s fate.”

   “How long is that?”

   She glanced over her shoulder at him.  “I can’t be sure.  A lot of people still need the sleep chamber.  A couple movements, at the most.”

   The thought made Shiro break out in a cold sweat.  Two more weeks of this?

   Then Allura added a qualifying statement.  “A couple more quintants at the least.”

   That made it worse.

   Neither of the options she had given him seemed very appealing, at the moment.  The prospect of talking to Hayze had his adrenaline going, and left a bitter taste under his tongue.  But the alternative made his heart race: talking to Filomena usually had a stabilizing effect on his nerves, but wondering what judgement she had in mind for Hayze left him with that painful twisting sensation.  Was she cold-hearted enough to condemn him for the things he had done?  Or was she the more merciful kind, who gave in at the sight of crocodile tears?  That being said, how well did Shiro really know her?

   Shiro wasn’t stupid; he knew he was just delaying the inevitable, and that he would probably feel better after everything was out in the open.  But he needed to try to figure it all out for himself.  He needed to be the independent, level-headed adult everyone wanted him to be.

   He decided to see Hayze first.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Filomena; quite the opposite was true.  If he saw her, and spoke with her, there was a good chance that he wouldn’t want to do anything else for the rest of the day… or maybe for the rest of the week.

   Hayze didn’t seem surprised to see him.  He was sitting on the floor, long legs bent up at angles to support his wiry arms.  Looking down at him like this, Shiro realized that the Galra trainer was shaped more like Keith than himself, scaled to seven-plus feet.  One less thing he and Hayze had in common.  The odd little thought made him feel a bit better, for no real reason.

   “It’s been awhile,” Hayze said quietly.  “I wasn’t sure you’d return.”

   Shiro sighed and stepped into the cell.  “Tending to you is part of my duties.”

   “Is that all it is?” Hayze asked, though it didn’t sound like a question to which he had wanted an answer.

   The black paladin closed the door behind him, locking him in with Hayze.  “How does it feel to finally have your collar off?” he asked, almost absently.

   The Galra prisoner looked away and made a neutral sound in his throat.  “Imprisonment is imprisonment.  A cell or a collar makes little difference.”

   Shiro stared at him for a few more ticks, then stepped further into the room and sat down before Hayze.  “I’ve been instructed to ask you about Raxxan’s movements over the course of your captivity.”

   “You mean to ask where we got our slaves.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes.  “‘Their’,” he corrected.

   “What?”

   “It’s ‘where _they_ got _their_ slaves’.”  He shook his head.  “You’re not one of them.”

   The larger figure studied him through golden eyes for a moment before looking away.  “I might as well be.”  Hayze leaned his head back against the wall.  “I facilitated the capture and torment of _hundreds_ ,” he said.  “I am no better than any of them.”

   “That’s not for me to decide,” Shiro insisted.  “I am not here to judge you.”

   “No, that has been left to your _charge_.”

   Shiro lowered one eyebrow at him.  “She’s not _mine_ ,” he said.  “And you can’t blame me for her decision.”

   Hayze cut his yellow eyes down at Shiro, then blinked and sighed.  “No, I suppose I can’t do that, can I?”  He looked away.  “She’s a willful thing, isn’t she?”

   Shiro didn’t answer.  

   The Galra prisoner glanced up.  “So you haven’t claimed her.”

   “Hayze,” Shiro said patiently.  “My question.  Please.”

   Hayze smirked tiredly and sighed again, a sound that had half a laugh under it.  “Very well.  For several years, we were space-faring.  We…”  He coughed.  “Forgive me, I forget myself.  Slaves were abducted from planets and moons not under Galra control, and were sold or bartered-for at many different ports, including those occupied by the Empire.”

   “Did Raxxan buy any at the ports where you landed?”

   “No.  Our… No…”  He seemed to reconsider.  “Yes… _our_ relationship with the Galra Empire is tenuous at the best of times.  We are not allies, and we are not enemies, and that makes us… hm… rivals, I suppose.  Competitors, perhaps.  They keep the best for themselves, and attempt to sell the rest.  Those individuals would not be considered worthwhile investments.  One can not make bread from chaff.”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows at the arcane reference.  “You seem… very intelligent.”

   “Is that so surprising?” Hayze asked.

   “No, but… that phrase you just used seemed very familiar, somehow.”

   Hayze harrumphed.  “I was abducted very young,” he explained.  “After years of loyal service, I was allotted certain privileges.”

   “An expensive education?” Shiro asked.

   “Extensive.  Expense is relative.”

   Shiro shrugged.  “I suppose that’s true.”  He rested his arms on his knees, mirroring Hayze’s posture.  “But with those privileges came other responsibilities.”

   The lanky purple alien nodded.  “Very astute.  My rank dictated that I prepare other capable individuals for the guilds, or for the Arena, and for my promotion I was given the responsibility of shepherd, as you discovered.”  He gestured a claw-tipped hand at Shiro in indication.  “But I found I could not do both.  I could not be a gentle shepherd _and_ an effective trainer.”

   Shiro smirked.  “I know the feeling.  I was one of the red paladin’s early trainers.”

   “I’ve not had the pleasure of combat with him,” Hayze replied.  He smiled a little.  “I’m certain he is quite capable.”

   The black paladin’s smile slowly faded.  “I imagined a… very different encounter with you.”

   “I’m sure.”  He sighed heavily.  “I am still attempting to rediscover my true nature.  If you expect a beast, I think you may find it.  But…”  He looked directly at Shiro and studied him for a moment.  “I don’t think you do.”  He smiled again.

   Shiro watched him for a moment, and then looked at the floor.  “Do you think I should claim her?” he finally asked.

   “It’s none of my concern,” Hayze said, immediately and with finality in his tone.

   “Let me rephrase, then,” said Shiro, undaunted.  “What would your reasons be for claiming someone?”

   Hayze raised his scarred eyebrow at the question.  “If they were in danger of being claimed by another, or if they were my orphaned kin.”

   “You can claim family?” Shiro asked.

   “One may,” Hayze said with a nod.  “There are laws that govern that area, though, to prevent certain abuses of the process.”

   “So it’s more complex than just marriage,” Shiro murmured.

   “It has more facets to it, of which marriage is one.”  He lowered his head in thought.  “I believe your kind would describe a claiming as a _legal_ matter, rather than a romantic one.”

   “It was my understanding that it was formerly a religious practice.”

   “It might once have been,” said Hayze, “but it’s so far removed now that it no longer resembles the claiming of old.”  He looked up at Shiro.  “I’m no romantic, Shiro.  Even as a Galra, I do not take claiming lightly.  However, Raxxan made the mistake of thinking that my actions marked Filomena as mine, and because of my rank and race, he allowed me to ‘possess’ her.  I would rather let him think wrongly, than…”  Hayze stopped himself suddenly, and a thick tension fell over them in the silence that followed.

   Shiro narrowed his eyes.  “Raxxan was going to have her killed, wasn’t he?” he asked softly.

   Hayze looked at the floor.  “She…she was too much for us to handle.  Her potential value to Raxxan was… in _sharp decline_.”  Hayze curled into himself slightly, his shoulders moving up toward his ears.  “I would have told her everything, but… circumstances forced my hand.”

   “You killed Donovan.”

   “Yes, I did.”

   “Were you under orders?”

   Hayze shook his head.  “It was by request.”  He looked up at Shiro again, but the black paladin was stunned into silence.  “There was… there was nothing we could do for him.”

   Shiro studied Hayze’s eyes.  “You’re telling me… he was _dying_?”

   Hayze sighed deeply and broke his gaze with Shiro.  “I…I admired Donovan.  He was perhaps the only one in fifteen years who was able to tell the real me from the monster I created.  If I had been able to properly claim anyone, it would have been _him_.”  He leaned back into the wall.  “So when he told me, and asked me that last favor, we both knew I would have to make it look like he had rebelled.  So… I made it look good.  A perfect _massacre_.”  He sighed.  “Filomena was justifiably upset, but after she attacked me, Raxxan informed me that he had had enough.  My options were either to control her, or to get rid of her.”  The purple alien shook his head, large ears brushing the wall behind him.  “So I did the only thing I could think of.”

   Shiro stared at him.  All this new information was hitting him at once, and making the twisting feeling in his chest _so much worse_.

   “A-are you…?”

   Hayze glanced back up.

   “Are you mated to Filomena?”

   The Galra trainer studied him sullenly for a few ticks before answering.  “You shouldn’t ask loaded questions.  Stupid ones, at that.”

   “It’s not a stupid question,” Shiro retorted.

   Hayze folded his arms and gave Shiro a somewhat petulant pout.  “It’s a stupid, very loaded question.  We’re not animals; we have spouses.  Calling one’s spouse their ‘mate’ takes the factor of their choice out of a very complicated equation, in my opinion.  We have a son, so obviously we are mated.  But what you are asking is if we are _married_.  And to that, the answer is ‘no, we are not, and have no such intentions’.”  He waved a hand flippantly at the black paladin.  “Claim her, if you so desire.  It’s none of my business.”  

   “But…”

   He raised his eyebrow at Shiro again.  “You seem fully intent on defining something that cannot be so easily discerned.  What you’re asking of me is impossible, and the fact that you’re asking _me_ , of all your choices, is insane.  If you’re so enamored with her, then stop bothering me with your personal insecurity and just _ask_ her, you dolt.”

   Shiro stared at him until the silence became awkward again.

   Finally Hayze tilted his head back in exasperation and sighed, his left ear drooping and pulling back so that it almost matched his right.  “I’m sorry.  For a moment I think I might have channelled Matik.”

   Shiro couldn’t help but smirk.  “That does sound like something she would say.”  He sighed and got to his feet.

   Hayze stopped him before he reached the door.  “Shiro,” he said softly.

   The black paladin turned around.  “Yes?”

   “My grasp of Italian is… well, not very good.  What does the word ‘doctore’ mean?”

   Shiro raised both eyebrows.  “Filomena called you that?”

   “Yes.”  Hayze touched his chin.  “I believe it was meant as an insult.”

   Shiro scratched his head.  That was what this whole situation reminded him of: something left to the blood-drenched annals of Roman history.  “Firstly, it’s not Italian,” he said.  “It’s from a much older language, called Latin.  Secondly, it’s an ancient term used to describe a slave that trains gladiators.”  He lowered his hand to his side.  “She might’ve meant it as an insult, but really it just describes her view of you.”

   “I see.  Thank you.  And…”  He looked up at the black paladin, the sheepish smile creeping back into his face.  “Thank you for rescuing us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that didn't go the way anyone expected.


	87. “I Could Use a Love Song” - Maren Morris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filomena sets Shiro straight

   Shiro did not go to dinner with the rest of the paladins.  Nor did he appear at breakfast the following morning, or at lunch after that.

   The last of them to see him was Princess Allura, to whom he dutifully reported his findings in a quick, curt manner before vanishing into the castle.

   “Where’s Shiro?” Pidge asked her, following the black paladin’s absence at lunch.

   She turned to look at the green paladin from her dresser.  “I’m not sure.”  She and Filomena had been spending their small amount of free time sorting through their purchases from the swap moon and hanging Allura’s new clothes in her closet.  Allura checked a small console next to her vanity.  “Last night was the last time I saw him.  He seemed very _short_ with me.  Not rude, I think, but he made it clear that he didn’t want to be seen.”

   Filomena looked up at them from the floor, eyes glinting through her new calico-rimmed glasses.  She was sitting next to Cesare, who was playfully squirming around on his tummy next to her, kicking his feet and drooling happily.  “Is something wrong, do you think?” the brunette asked.

   “That was my impression,” said Allura.  “I know he’s been under some severe stress lately, but nothing I do seems to help.”

   “He told me he had spoken with Matik,” said Filomena.  “Has he not returned for another session?”

   Pidge folded her arms.  “Apparently not.”

   Filomena lowered her gaze.  “I was so busy, I wasn’t even able to speak to him yesterday,” she said softly.  “I feel a little guilty now.  I wish I had been able to spend some time with him.”

   The green paladin shrugged, turning her hands up and flashing the slim silver bangle that Filomena had crafted for her.  “What with everything going on, it’s a wonder you’ve been able to reconnect with your baby, let alone do all the other stuff you’ve been doing,” she said.  She glanced down at the bracelet.  “Not that I’m complaining.”

   Filomena chuckled.  “I’m glad you like it.  Coran seemed pleased with his, too, once I explained their function.”

   Pidge gave her a flat look.  “I wasn’t sure epaulettes had a function,” she muttered.  Then she cocked her head to acknowledge her.  “But they do suit him.”

   Miela chuckled.  “I thought so too.”  She reached over and tickled her son’s shoulder blades, and he wiggled and squealed under her touch.

   Pidge waited for the baby’s high-pitched giggle to run out before speaking again.  “What was it you had him doing before he stormed off like that?”

   Allura turned to look at her.  “He was supposed to interview Hayze to find out if there were any ports that sold slaves.”

   Pidge sighed.  “Allura, _any_ of us could’ve done that.  I probably could’ve done that just by looking at their ship’s logs.”

   “You were busy, at the time, and Shiro wanted something to occupy his time.”

   “Oh for Pete’s sake,” Pidge griped.  “If he wanted something to do, he could go clean the cryo-replenishers with Coran.  Don’t send him to interrogate his arch-nemesis just because he’s _bored_!”

   Filomena was only half-listening.  If it had to do with Hayze, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear it, anyway.  She leaned and kissed the top of Cesare’s head, and lifted another slender box into her lap.

   Allura sighed.  “You’re right.  I realized that a bit too late to do anything about it.”  She put her head on one hand.  “And the cryo-replenishers desperately need cleaning…”

   Filomena glanced up at her friends from over the lid of the box before opening it and letting out a gasp.

   Allura looked at her.  “Filomena?” she asked.  “What’s wrong?”

   Miela didn’t answer immediately.  She just reached down into the box and held up part of its contents: a silken sheath of white fabric that cowled in the back.

   Surprise widened the princess’ eyes.  “That dress!”

   “Did you buy this?” Filomena asked.  There was no accusation in her voice; only disbelief.

   “N-no!  I had thought you didn’t want it.”  She suddenly came upon the same realization Filomena had, and covered her mouth.  “Oh dear…”

   Pidge removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes.  “Oh, boy.  I thought we were trying to _avoid_ drama, guys.”

   Allura held up her hands.  “Lance and I were just having fun.  We didn’t expect Shiro to _buy_ the dress that won our little game!”

   The girl made a face.  “I’m gonna just skim over that phrase about you and Lance ‘having fun’ and go right to the part where I ask what the _quiznak_ you were thinking,” Pidge said irritably.  “His flashbacks are more frequent now, he’s moody all the time, and he keeps wandering off to sort out all the chaos we’ve been throwing at him!”  She lowered her volume a notch or two.  “We can’t keep toying with him like this, Allura.  He’s in his head too much as it is.  Shiro _thrives_ on stress, and even _he_ can’t handle this kind of pressure.”

   Allura watched her throughout the rant, but when the green paladin was finished, the princess looked at the floor.  “I know.  I noticed.”  She sighed.  “I may have taken his strong constitution for granted.”  She heard Cesare start whining feebly, and looked up at Filomena.

   The woman’s expression was calm, almost tired, aware but uninterested.  “I need to put him down for a nap,” she said. “I’ll be back for these boxes once he’s asleep, if you don’t mind me leaving them here.”  She looked to Allura for confirmation.

   “That’s fine,” the princess said with a nod.  As Filomena picked Cesare up off the floor, the princess cocked her head a little in question.  “Were you… were you listening?” she asked.

   “Of course.”  Miela bounced her baby gently against her, ignoring the trickle of his drool on her new shirt.  “I warned you, didn’t I?”

   The princess sighed.  “Yes, you did.”

   Pidge glanced at the princess.  “Warned you about what?”

   Allura’s expression was sheepish.  “Apparently, Filomena used to be quite the heartbreaker.”

   Pidge’s face reddened slightly.  “I… was not aware of that.”  Then understanding dawned on her features.  “That explains a few things, though.”

   Miela narrowed her eyes at both of them.  “My manipulations got me in enough trouble.  That part of my life is long over.”

   Pidge’s expression bent down in embarrassment.  “We didn’t mean to insinuate anything crude, Miela,” she said soothingly.  “What happened with Shiro was happenstance.”  She shot Allura a glare.  “At least, _mostly_.”

   The princess groaned and put her head in her hands.  “How am I to fix this?”

   “You should stay out of it,” said Filomena.  Her tone was gentle, but firm; almost motherly.  Almost.  “If he doesn’t come out in a few more vargas, we can worry about it then.”

  “He’s been gone for almost _fourteen_ vargas,” Pidge said.  “We don’t know if he’s slept, but we’re pretty sure he hasn’t eaten or spoken with _anyone_.”

   “I have to agree with Pidge,” said Allura.  “This isn’t like him at all.”

   Filomena turned her gaze on Pidge.  “Ladies, he’s an adult.  And, since I am one, I can say that spending my every waking moment with a bunch of teenagers is exhausting.  I like you all, and I count you among my closest friends, but it isn’t so strange to want time to ourselves once in a while.”

   The girl shrugged.  “Usually, he’s awake and productive long before any of the rest of us.  The fact that he’s vanished again is a little troubling.  Our team doesn’t have support or direction without him.”  Her voice rose steadily to be heard over Cesare’s whining.

   Filomena sighed.  “One more varga, then, while I get Cesare to sleep.”

   “What will you do?” the princess asked.

   The woman studied her for a moment, and waited for a break in the crying before speaking.  “The thing I do best,” she murmured, a little ruefully.

   Allura sighed.  “I really hope you know what you’re doing.  I obviously hadn’t a clue.”

   Filomena gave them both a tired little smile.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

   She met Lance and Keith on her way back to the crew’s quarters.  Both boys had just come off rotation, and looked appropriately fatigued.  Lance waved her over with a smile, and immediately bent down to say hello to Cesare.

   “Did you boys have a good shift?” Filomena asked.

   Lance groaned.  “I’m ready for a break,” he responded tiredly.  He didn’t elaborate.  “How’s Shiro?”

   She looked momentarily surprised that he had asked.  “I haven’t seen him.”

   Keith raised an eyebrow.  “Really?  I figured if anyone had seen him, it would be you.”

   The woman shook her head.  “I’m afraid not.  The last time I saw him was yesterday morning.”

   Lance scratched his head.  “That long?”

   She nodded.  “Why?  Is that not normal?”

   Keith shook his head.  “Actually, he’s been a little off-kilter lately.  It was worse when you guys came back from the swap moon.”  His tone was worried, but wouldn’t look anyone in the eye.

   Filomena knew what that meant.  He was blaming her for Shiro’s odd behavior.  She studied the red paladin for only a moment more, and then turned and looked at Lance.  “I did find something out,” she said in a hopeful tone.

   Lance glanced up.  “What’s that?”

   She took a deep breath, and then sighed, her breath a little too fast, as if there was a certain panic rising underneath her calm facade.  “He bought the dress.”

   The blue paladin looked puzzled for a moment, and then he leaned a little too close.  “He _WHAT_?”

   Filomena startled backward, and Cesare began crying louder.

   Keith cut his eyes up at Lance.  “What now?  What dress?”

   Lance rolled his eyes and slapped his hand to his face.  “Quiznak.  The white one?  From the mall?”

   The red paladin narrowed his eyes.  “Wha- Are you saying _Shiro_ bought a _dress_?”

   Lance looked sheepish.  “Yeah.  We were having Miela model clothes for us.  Trying to get Shiro to help us figure out what looked best on her.”  He looked away.

   Keith rubbed his eyes.  “God, Lance…”  He sighed and gave Miela an apologetic look.  “I’m sorry he made you do that.”

   Lance was quick to defend himself.  “It wasn’t _that_ kind of dress!”

   Keith folded his arms.  “Well, what kind of dress _was_ it?”

   “An evening gown,” Lance informed him, arms folded defensively.  “It was perfectly classy, thank-you-very-much!”

   They stared at each other for another couple ticks before Keith narrowed his eyes further and leaned toward him.  “A _white.  Evening.  Gown_.”

   “Yeah.  So?”

   Keith rubbed his eyes again.  “God, you’re such an idiot.”  He braced his other hand on his hip.  “Run through those three words again and tell me when it finally hits you, huh?”

   Lance rewound their conversation to the three words Keith had mentioned, and considered them one at a time.  White.  Evening.  Gown.  Evening gown equals special occasion.  When would a woman wear a long white dre-…  Oh, wait.  His eyes grew wide, and then the rest of his body seemed to go slack in dismay.  “Holy crow.  This is _our_ fault.”

   “Yup.”

   Lance sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Well, I guess our little contest worked a little too well, huh?” he asked Filomena, though there was an undercurrent of nervous laughter in his voice.

   “Apparently,” she said over Cesare’s wailing.  “Look, I’ve got to put him to sleep before we do _anything_ about this.”

   Lance came close.  “Here, let me,” he said.  “I was going to go lie down anyway; I could use a snuggle-buddy.”

   Keith raised an eyebrow at him.  “You could use a _what_?”

   “That’s right, I like to snuggle.”  Lance lifted his chin and angled a haughty glare down at the red paladin.  “I don’t see _you_ volunteering for that honor, Mullet.”

   The red paladin folded his arms again.  “What honor?” he mumbled, though the comment was almost lost under the sound of Cesare’s wailing.

   “You’re just mad ‘cause you’ve never experienced good Lance lovin’.”  Lance scooped Cesare into his arms and lifted him to press his cheek against the little boy’s forehead, twisting his upper body to and fro with a gentle, wave-like motion.  He began humming a sweet, sad little tune, and the baby slowly quietened.

   Filomena blinked at him.  “You _must_ teach me how you do that.”

   Lance cut his eyes up at her, then nodded off into the distance.  “Mind if I use your room?  I’ll change him, and lock up when we leave.”

   Filomena let him into her room, thanked Lance profusely for his _amazing_ babysitting skills, and began her long, slow walk through the castle.  She didn’t have anywhere in particular to be, or any certain time she had to get there, so she didn’t have to hurry.  The walk cleared her mind the way a long drive would, or a glass of wine, or maybe a cigarette, if she had smoked.  She knew she needed to find Shiro, but there was the feeling at the back of her consciousness that said she would find him if she just wandered long enough.  She briefly considered reaching out to him the way she had when he was stuck on Aepsis, but thought better of it.  No need to cross that line again.

   She didn’t check every door.  That might seem too desperate.  She stopped to check a few obvious places; the black lion’s hangar, the training deck.  But she knew in her heart she had looked too soon; he wasn’t there.  She wasn’t ready to find him.  And that was fine, because she honestly had no idea what she was going to say when she found him.

   Her instincts, or maybe happy accident, brought her to the last door.  She had thought if he was in there the door would be locked, but it wasn’t.  But it _was_ dark.  She turned the lights on, noticed him sitting there, facing the window, and turned them off again.  His figure had tensed upon the realization that he had been discovered.  If darkness was what he craved, she could let him have that.

   She looked down, into the darkness where the toes of her new boots should be.  “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said.  No emotion.  Just fact.

   Shiro harrumphed.  “You’re distracting.”

   “You’ve told me that before.”

   “It’s still true.”

   She watched him for a few ticks, trying to decide if she should leave or not.  Not, she decided.  Filomena sighed and took a few slow steps toward him.  “This is where you go?” she asked.  “Did you come here after our fight?”

   “Yes.”

   She hummed and clasped her hands behind her back.  “And you were able to collect your thoughts, then?”

   He nodded, a motion almost lost in the darkness, save for the light shifting on his white hair.  “Yes.”

   “How long did that take?”

   He thought about it.  “An hour, maybe.”

   Her voice was closer, but still soft.  “Do you know how long you’ve been in here?”

   Shiro sighed.  “About…fourteen hours?”

   “Eighteen.”  Her voice was still soft and undemanding.  “They’re worried about you.”

   He nodded again.  “So they sent you.”

   “No.”  She was beside him now.  “I wasn’t even part of that conversation.  But I knew how to handle it, and they didn’t.”

   He looked up at her.  “ _Do you_?” he asked, a bit more sharply than he had intended.

   If she flinched, he didn’t see it.  Still, a flash of regret passed over his eyes, and he broke his gaze with her.  “I’m… I’m sorry.”

   She hummed, and this time it sounded careless.  “So,” she went on, as if he hadn’t snapped at her, “what’s taking you so long?”

   Shiro looked at his hands.  “It’s complicated.”

   “Un-complicate it.”

   “I’ve been _trying_.”

   “You’ve been pushing it to the back burner and refused to deal with it.  It’s not complicated.  You have made it complicated.”

   “If it’s _so_ easy…”  He cut himself off.

   “If it’s so easy, why don’t _I_ do it?” she finished for him.  She turned and stepped out of his field of vision.  “Very well.”

   After two ticks of grinding his teeth, Shiro looked up after her.  “Filomena…”  He stopped when she picked up a chair and dragged it over next to him.

   She set the chair down and sat, then bent to mirror his position, with her elbows on her knees.  “Are you in love with me?”

   The question stunned him.  He felt himself blush, and then he blinked and looked at the floor.  “I… I don’t know.”

   “It’s not complicated, Takashi,” she reminded him.

   “It _is_ complicated,” he insisted.  “It’s complicated because I’m actually _risking things_ by feeling… _whatever you think this is_.”

   Her voice edged toward a snarl.  “Don’t condescend to me.  Whatever risks you think you face are things I have shouldered for myself.”  Her tone softened after that.  “That is not something for which you can be held accountable.”

   Shiro pursed his mouth and hung his head.

   “Don’t make it complicated.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “How do you do that?” he asked.  “How are you not scared?  How are you not completely paralyzed?”

   Filomena watched his eyes for a moment, and then let out a sigh and rose from her chair.  She closed the distance between them and slowly knelt before him.  “I never said I wasn’t scared,” she said softly.  She settled before him in seiza position.  “But to keep it from being overwhelming, I have to keep it simple.  For example,” she said, running her fingers over his, “I am attracted to you.  I like spending time with you.  I also admire you immensely, and I care deeply about your health and well-being.”  She slowly began working the glove off his left hand.  “Now, does that equate to me being in love?”  She shrugged and slid her fingers between his.  “I don’t know.  I spent so much time chasing it that I forgot I had no idea what it was supposed to look like.”  She cradled his hand in hers for another tick, and then that bashful smile crossed her face.  “But,” she continued, “what I _do_ know is that I see a man from whom I can learn the right things, maybe for forever.”  She set the glove on her lap, and then fidgeted briefly with a small object in her palm.  “That’s not something I’m ready to give up.”

   Shiro felt something warm and hard slide over one of his knuckles, and he inhaled sharply.

   “That’s uncomplicated,” she finished with a smirk.  At his shocked look, she chuckled.  “Did you wonder why I had made jewelry for your team and not for you?” she asked.  She held up a similar round, metal object and let the ambient light reflect off it for a moment.

   He stared at it for a moment, taking a little too long to realize what it was.  “A ring,” he finally breathed.

   “Two,” she corrected.

   Shiro took the slender band from her and held it in his palm.  “Does this mean…?”  He stopped.

   She smirked at him and slowly shook her head.  “Don’t complicate it, Takashi,” she warned in a soft, lilting tone.  She allowed him a moment to study the band she had placed on his finger.  “For now, take it for what it is.  Then, when the time is right, we can apply whatever additional meaning you desire.”

   Shiro allowed himself a smile, and then he too slid from his chair.  He knelt before her, looked once at the ring in his palm, and then took her left hand in his.  “And am I to share my decision?” he asked.

   She shook her head.  “You don’t have to share it with anyone.  Not even me.”

   Shiro glanced up at her, and the laugh lines around his eyes deepened.  “Well, then,” he said, returning his gaze to the back of her hand.  He slid the smaller ring onto her finger.  “Maybe it really is that simple.”


	88. “There’s Nothing Holding Me Back” - Shawn Mendes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro finally comes clean to Filomena about what's bothering him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit o' lime ;)

   Shiro still felt shaken, in spite of Filomena’s generous comfort, and didn’t really feel like seeing anyone.  At least, not anyone besides her.  So she rose on her knees and kissed him, the tips of her fingers pressed lovingly into the sharp line of his jaw, and nuzzled him once before rising.

   “Come on,” she murmured.  “Let’s get out of here.”

   Shiro kept a firm hold on her wrist as she got to her feet; even now, she was too far away.  He would just as soon have stayed here in the dark with her for a few more hours.  She smiled softly at his slight tug.  “It’ll be all right, Takashi,” she cooed.

   “Where are we going?” Shiro asked.  He slowly got up off his knees, and was suddenly uncomfortable with the fact that he was so much taller than her.

   She thought for a moment.  “The kitchen, I think.  You need to eat, and after that you should sleep, if you didn’t last ni-”

   “No,” he cut her off.  “N-no.  I don’t… I don’t want…”  He trailed off, coughed, and tried to piece two words together in the scattered thoughts that still flicked in and out of focus.  “I’m fine.”

   She noticed, but didn’t call attention to his loss of vocabulary.  “Very well.”  She stroked the white hair out of his face, and kissed the bare spot of forehead she found beneath it.  “Come, now.  You’ve sat in the dark too long.”

   He wasn’t sure how she had done it, but they met no one on their walk across the castle to the kitchens.

   “Where is everyone?” he asked, turning and looking down at Filomena.

   She flicked her eyes up at him, hazel turning to green, and gave him a tired smile.  “Lance just came off rotation, and is lying down with Cesare.  And Keith was with him when I met him, so I suspect your red paladin is either on the training deck, or doing a few laps in the pool.”  She looked down into their path again.  “Pidge was with Allura, last I saw her, though the princess may have put her on assignment since then, and it’s Hunk’s turn on rotation.”  Where Lance would be counting on his fingers at this point, Filomena listed off everyone’s names without much thought.

   Shiro raised an eyebrow at her.  “Was he any trouble?  The baby, I mean.”

   She chuckled.  “He’s a baby.  Of course he is.”

   “Are you okay?”

   She looked up at him again.  “I’m just tired, Takashi.  Just like everyone else.”

   “Should I… should I leave you alone?”

   She stopped walking, and turned to face him full on.  “Takashi,” she scolded gently.

   He stopped her.  “I know you came for me because you wanted to.  I know you spend time with me because you want to.”

   “Then what kind of question was that?” she asked.

   He studied her for a moment before he decided she wasn’t trying to press him into answering childishly.  It wasn’t a stupid question.  Just…  Shiro looked at the floor and sighed.  “A very self-conscious one.”

   Her features relaxed into that tired smile again, and she hummed thoughtfully.  “Let me cook you something, and you can talk to me about everything.”  She turned and resumed her walk.

   “Y-you don’t have to-”

   “Hush, Takashi.”

   Filomena’s presence hadn’t completely alleviated Shiro’s emotional paralysis.  Admittedly, he felt a lot better, but there were still gears inside his mind that stubbornly ground together, creating sparks that shot down into the rest of his body.  He felt like a fish, frozen in a lake: too cold to move, and too tired to try any more.  Perhaps that’s what her warm, sweet voice thawed a little; his will to try.  So, when his belly was full, and his brain finally allowed him coherent thought beyond his anxiety, he attempted to explain all the things that were going on in his head.

   “We can’t keep doing this,” Shiro said.  His voice was soft, but tense, tight with confusion.

   “Doing what?” she asked softly.  Her fingers played gently in the short hair on the back of his neck.

   He shook his head gently, trying not to succumb to her touch, but at the same time not trying to chase it away, either.  “This back-and-forth we’ve been doing.  This… gray area.  I can’t do it anymore.”  He swallowed.  “I don’t know what to do.  I don’t want to try and go back to the way it was before I met you, but I’m hesitant about pushing forward.  I’m scared it’ll change us, or that I’ll get distracted, or that I’ll hurt you or someone else, or that I’ll get my priorities mixed up.”  He put his head in one hand.  “But I can’t stand this… being in the middle, wanting… wanting what I do, and not knowing whether I deserve it or not, and whether or not it will affect the rest of what I do.”

   She lowered her hand into her lap.  “I know what you mean,” she said quietly.  “That’s why I’m so careful with the things I say.  I’m well aware of my… _peculiar_ ability, and I don’t want to use it to influence your or anyone else’s decisions.”  She nervously knitted her fingers.  After a couple more ticks, she turned her eyes down.  “I don’t want to hurt you, either,” she whispered.

   He looked at her; first her face, and then his eyes went to her hands.  “It wasn’t you, I don’t think.”

   “Oh?”  She looked up at him again.  There was hope in her face, but no smile.  “Then… how did this start?” she asked.

   “I spoke with… with one of my contacts,” he said carefully.  “He’s Galra, and the head of a rebel faction…”

   “You’re talking about the Blade of Marmora,” she interrupted.  “And… his name’s Kolivan, right?”

   Shiro glanced at her.  “You knew about them?”

   “Only because Lance explained it to me.”  She chuckled.  “He used ‘Star Wars’ analogies.”

   The black paladin laughed quietly at the idea.  “I’m not sure why I never thought of that.”  After a moment more, he became serious again.  “I asked him about Hayze, and if he might be a covert operative for them.  He wasn’t, but I had to ask.”  He paused a moment.  “And… since we were on the subject, I asked Kolivan if there was a uniquely Galra method of protecting you from him, so that, if anything should happen, if… if things got out of hand, I could put myself between you and him.  And…”  He swallowed nervously.  “He suggested something called a ‘claiming’.”  Shiro flicked his eyes up from the table at her, but her face was wary and impassive.  He returned his gaze to his hands.  “Now, I’ve gone over it a lot in my head, and maybe that’s why I got so confused.  I was under the initial impression that it was… something else; something _animal_ and _basic instinct_ , and that scared me.”

   “Any particular reason why?” she asked softly.

   Shiro raised both hands and rubbed his face to cover his embarrassment.  “Because I didn’t want to hurt you.  I didn’t want to be like Hayze.”  She was quiet, and that was just as well.  He needed to move on.  Shiro put his hands down and stared at the table again.  “But I’ve been learning it’s more than that.  So much more, in fact, that at some points it loses all semblance of romance or ritual, and it becomes something more akin to _tax law_.”  He put his head in his hands.  “And that’s just dry and dull and ridiculously pragmatic.  I don’t want to use something that _bureaucratic_ to protect you from someone who’s mostly lawless anyway.”

   She laughed under her breath at that, and that raised his spirits a little.  She was taking it well.

   Shiro sighed.  “Besides, I’m not sure either of us could respect that sort of union.”  He paused, letting the tension rise in his shoulders before forcing himself onward.  “I guess what I was looking for… well, what I’m trying to say is…”

   She raised a hand to stop him.  “I’m going to insert a footnote here to say that I’m pretty sure I don’t actually _need_ protecting.”  Then she smiled.  “But it’s very kind of you to want to shield me from him.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “But… that’s not all I wanted.”

   “Oh?”

   He could feel those gears grinding together again.  She reached up and stroked his shoulder, and the sparks crossed once in front of his eyes before rushing to meet her fingertips.  Shiro blinked, and then when he finally felt his skin begin to burn, he rubbed his eyes.  “I… I wanted to claim you.”  He put his hand down and jerked his head around so that he faced her.  “I wanted you to be _mine_.”  There.  He said it.  

   He could feel his ears turning redder the longer she stared at him.  Then her surprised expression faded back into her tentative smile.  “Who else would I belong to, Takashi?”

   He opened his mouth, and then promptly closed it again.

   She chuckled.  “That would be the correct answer.”  She got up from the bench beside him.  “It’s a romantic thought,” she mused, “but I think the notion is too complex for the gesture you really wanted to make.”

   He scooted toward the edge of the bench and swung his legs out from under the table, one at a time.  “You’re awfully calm about this.”

   She nodded her head to one side to acknowledge him.  “Well, you just made me feel a whole lot better about my situation,” she said.  “That, and knowing you care about me that much is… it’s actually very reassuring.”  She turned around and gave him a grin that made his chest hurt.  “I am bound to no one, and so I have a choice.  I didn’t have that before.”

   He looked down, into the gentle curve of her figure.  Perhaps that was a bad idea, because he felt his face grow hotter.  “And… am I depriving you of that choice by stating my intentions?”

   She raised her eyebrows at him.  “No, of course not.”  She smiled warmly.  “Stating them is all you did.”

   Shiro blinked and lowered his gaze further.  “So then… what would my next step be?”

   She paused.  He thought for a moment that he might’ve asked a stupid question, but her boots slowly stepped into his field of vision, heels clicking on the kitchen tile.  “Assuming my agreement to your terms, you would claim me.”

   He flicked his eyes up at her.  “How?”

   Her shoulders shifted upward in a brief shrug.  “I don’t know.”  She smirked.  “If you hadn’t noticed, I was making this up as we went along.”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “I hadn’t.”  He smiled, reassured by her uncertainty, and followed her up, out of the booth.  “So,” he said softly, flicking his gaze down at the floor.  “Filomena.  What would I have to do for you to concede to be mine?”

   She thought about it, the edge of her mouth twitching up a hair further, until the whites of her teeth glinted at him.  “Say the words,” she said simply.  “We are intelligent individuals; a verbal contract is all we need, I think.”

   Shiro stepped into her and slid his hands onto her waist, letting them rest in the curve above her hip bones.  “Will you be mine?”

   She chuckled then, a warm, low sound with mischief in it.  “No, not like that.  You already know the answer to that.”  She raised her chin a little, eyes narrowed with her grin.  She was challenging him, teasing him with that look.  “Declare it.”

   He smirked.  “You’re getting a little careless, there,” he murmured.

   Her smile faded, cheeks washing pink, and she broke her gaze from him.  “S-sorry.”

   “Don’t be.”  He nudged her chin with the tip of one finger, and she raised her green-eyed gaze to him.  He let his smile fade, and worry replaced it again.  “Are you sure about this?” he asked.  “Anything could happen.  Between us.  Around us.  What if something happens, and I don’t come back?  Or, what if I come back, and I’m not the same?”  He broke her gaze.  “The last thing I want is for any of this… _all_ of this… to hurt you.”

   For a moment, her expression matched his.  Then she looked down, into his chest.  “Being a soldier is your job, Takashi.  I accept that.  You may fight, but you are prepared to accept martyrdom as your fate, and that’s not something everyone is capable of doing.”  She looked up at his face, then reached up and studied his white hair and the scar across his nose with the tips of her fingers.  “I’m extremely proud of you, and I’m honored beyond words that you see me as a worthwhile investment of your time and emotion.”

   “You make it sound almost cold,” he noticed, though he closed his eyes to accept the warm trace of her touch.

   “Almost.”  She cupped her hand against his jaw, smoothing her fingers back across his ear, and a shiver ran through him.  “I know how this will go.  That’s precisely why I want this.  So I can be a vestige of comfort; a memory that grounds you, and might someday bring you back to me.”

   His fingers tightened slightly.  Her tone was doing things to his head, and her touch was making those sparks fly behind his eyelids.  “I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”

   “Perhaps you will.  I’m willing to risk that.”

   Shiro opened his eyes and stared at her, studied the fierceness in her eyes and the tiniest upward curve to her mouth.  He could feel her chipping away at his willpower.  What would happen when he finally shattered?  “Filomena…”  His voice was too pleading.  He cut himself off, gulping down the words that begged at the back of his throat.

   Her hand pressed down on his shoulder, a little firmer than the weight of her arm.  He obediently followed her direction and slowly sat down again, dark eyes wide to take her in.  She was so powerful, her presence so commanding, that if she had left him here in the kitchen like this, he wouldn’t have been able to move for at least another hour.

   Filomena stepped between his feet, then propped one knee on the bench beside his hip.  Shiro’s hand automatically slid down to rest on her thigh, and that sent fire plunging into his stomach.  

   “Let me show you how it’s done.”  Her voice was a seductive purr that muddled any possible arguments he might’ve had.  She let her fingers trace the line of his jaw all the way to his chin, where she dragged the pad of her thumb over the slight swell of his lower lip.

   He couldn’t take his eyes off her.  Even if he had been able to break that spell, he would have been too confused to function properly.  He was stuck between his strong self-control and that gnawing hunger that had been steadily growing for… well, for a while now.  He couldn’t remember if it was days or weeks or years ago.  All he knew was that, at this moment, it was eating him alive.

   Her eyes were so _green_ , even through her glasses.  She reached up with her other hand and slid them off her nose, and set them on the table beside him.  He knew this because he heard the soft click as she placed them, since he wasn’t about to look away.  She leaned closer; a fraction of an inch, perhaps; and cocked her head slightly, looking down her nose at him with an almost _royal_ air of entitlement.

   “You… are _mine_ ,” she declared.  

   The growl in her voice was everything Shiro wanted; territorial and possessive, prickly and sensual at the same time.  Something inside him cracked.  His entire body tensed, and he pushed himself up, into her, crushing his mouth against hers.  The kiss was voracious, insatiable; there wasn’t enough of her to touch, too much time spent away from her lips between each meeting.  His hands went back to her hips and _pulled_ , and dear god, she _let_ him pull her down into his lap.

   His reaction had disrupted her haughty act, but the little noise she made when her hips met his realigned them perfectly.  Equal standing, equal stature.  No, that wasn’t true, entirely.  Sitting atop him as she was, she was yet a little taller than him.  That was all right.  He had certain advantages from this position.  His legs were longer than hers, so when she straightened and widened the distance between their bodies, he easily raised himself to meet her again, bracing one arm on the table for balance.  She inhaled sharply at the sudden contact and threaded her fingers into his hair, drawing him in for a deep, longing kiss.

 _Mine_.  The word played over and over inside him, spinning, spiraling all the way from his head to his knees, until all the little what-ifs he’d been worrying about were sucked away into this vortex she was creating inside him.  And then she _moved_ , and dear _god_ , for a moment all thought ceased, and his vision went white.

   Shiro tucked his hands under her legs and lifted her off the bench, and she broke away.  

   “I see you approve,” she murmured slyly.  He felt her lower legs wrap around him, locking her ankles in the small of his back.

   He harrumphed and turned, and set her back against the wall.  “I’m not sure _now_ is a good time to be making fun of me,” he breathed, pinning her with his weight and the angle of his hips.  “I might have you at a disadvantage.”

   She chuckled in his ear.  “ _Exactly_ ,” she murmured.  She pressed her lips to the sinew of his neck, and reveled in the moan that resulted from her ministrations.  

   Shiro understood, then.  She was _giving_ him control of the situation, allowing him permission to be dominant, to feel strong.  He nudged away the collar of her shirt and kissed her throat, and then rocked his hips into hers, and that broke her coy laughter off into a mew.

   “Is that what got you in so much trouble, back home?” Shiro asked breathlessly.

   “What do _you_ think?” she asked, not sharply enough to keep her from grazing her teeth along his ear.

   Shiro smirked.  “I see.”  He released one of her legs and reached up for a handful of her soft hair.  “Well, then,” he said, gently pulling her head to one side, “let me show you how it feels.”  He breathed a stream of hot air onto her skin, mouthed his way down her neck, and felt her tense beneath him.

   “Takashi…”  She _shivered_ , and that reassured him.  He wasn’t the only one losing control.  Filomena relaxed her legs, trying to sink into him again, but Shiro wrapped his right arm around her waist, pinning her in position against him.

   “Mean, isn’t it?” he murmured.  He raked his left hand through her hair, cupped the back of her head, and scraped his teeth across her jugular.

   Filomena arched her back, shoulders pressed to the wall, trying to chase the sensation before the space between them grew cold again.  “N-not fair,” she gasped.

   Shiro harrumphed.  “It’s only fair when _you_ do it?” he asked, the rumble of a laugh under his voice.  He clicked his tongue reproachfully.  “Oh, Filomena.  I’m going to make sure you forget every last one of those men you seduced.”

   She chuckled and gave him a defiant grin.  “Who said they were all _men_?” she purred.

   Shiro raised one eyebrow, but refused to let on that this little tidbit might actually have made his heart beat faster, shot electricity down his body.  “You little minx.”  He chuckled and pressed himself harder against her.  “I have my work cut out for me, then.”

   Her breath hitched in response, and she relaxed into the wall.  She let him kiss her, and when she opened her eyes again, her smile was calm.  “I like you better this way,” she murmured.

   He rested his forehead against hers.  “What way?  A tease?”

   She shook her head gently, making a negative sound in her throat.  “Perpetually unperturbed.  You always have an advantage, a gentle method of control.  An _edge_.  An alpha through and through.”

   He nudged her cheek with the tip of his nose.  “An alpha, hm?” he asked.  “What does that make you?”

   She hummed.  “For you to want me the way you do?  I’d have to be an alpha, as well.”

   “I guess that’s true.”  He kissed the bone of her cheek and wrapped his other arm around her waist, and Filomena unhooked her legs and let him set her down.  Shiro sighed.  “I feel better.”

   She raised an eyebrow at him and sniffed.  “I almost got you in trouble.”

   “You _did_ get me in trouble,” he laughed quietly.  “But it’s nothing I wouldn’t do over again.”

   “You’re sure about that, are you?” she asked smugly.

   He made an affirmative noise, and then his smile became shy.  “You could have me wrapped around your little finger, and instead you choose to point out my choices, define the pros and cons of each.  Every tough decision I’ve had since we came to Aepsis, you’ve helped me make.”  He smiled at her.  “If anyone on the ship is ‘perpetually unperturbed,’ it would be you, dear.”

   She tittered shyly.  “Now, why would you say that?” she asked.  “You know better than most that I’m the most easily flustered person on this ship.”

   He laughed.  “I do not!  I’m not smart enough to figure out what gets you flustered.”

   She studied him, and then her smile faded a little, the redness rising in her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.  “Compliments,” she said softly.

   “I did figure that one out.”

   She scoffed and nuzzled him when he leaned in to kiss her brow bone.  “And… hm… skin.”

   “Skin?” Shiro asked.  “As in, ‘bare skin’?”  He straightened a little and sheepishly rubbed his head.  “I can definitely understand that.”

   She looked down into his chest.  “One more…  Ah!  Being helpless.”

   He blinked at her once.  He did remember that.  That was why she had attacked him in the training room, which had resulted in them kissing for the first time.  Then Shiro smirked half-heartedly.  All the insecurities she had mentioned, in retrospect, were things he already knew about.  “I… I’m not sure what to say about any of those, really.”

   “If you did, I’d be really impressed.”  She allowed him an embarrassed smile.  “I suppose I can trust you with those?”

   He grinned, and allowed the expression to become just the tiniest bit predatory.  “You might have to tell me how far I can take them, then.”

   She laughed.  “I’ll let you know.”  She wrapped her arms around his neck.  “We’ll figure it out as we go.”


	89. “Words As Weapons” - Seether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura, Pidge, and Hunk interview Hayze, and come away knowing more than they really wanted to.

   Allura watched the vids from Hayze’s cell over and over, trying to fully absorb the horror of what she was witnessing.  Whether or not he was a psychopath, Hayze was terrifyingly intelligent, an excellent actor, and perhaps an even better manipulator than Filomena.  Perhaps.  That factor was still up for debate.

   A notification popped up in front of her, breaking her concentration.  Shiro was on the move.  She smirked.  This was a good sign; Filomena had been able to coax him out.  Maybe in time, she could figure out exactly what was doing this to him.  The thought raised her spirits enough that she could go back to watching the vids.

   She could almost recite the dialogue between Shiro and Hayze when the notification she had dismissed earlier blinked at her.  She looked up at it and hummed in question.  It looked like Shiro and Filomena had moved to the kitchen.  That was fine; he needed to eat, but…  Her eyebrows came together in worry when she read his indicators: his heart was racing, his blood pressure heightened.  If he was having a panic attack, would Filomena be able to calm him down?  Would she need help subduing him?

   She brought up the video of the kitchen.  It took less than two ticks for her to realize that Shiro wasn’t, in fact, having a panic attack, and Filomena was handling him just fine without help.

   The princess’ face turned red, and then she let out a high-pitched squeal of embarrassment and quickly waved away the offending screen.

   Allura sat for a moment in her chair, letting the more visceral evidence of Shiro and Filomena’s relationship slowly sink in.  Finally, she sighed and cupped both hands wearily over her face.  She didn’t know why she had been so shocked; Shiro had _told_ her about his feelings for the woman.  Of _course_ he would kiss her like that.

   The princess hunched over until her elbows met her knees, and she ran her fingers up into her hair.  Assuming that this would sate his appetites, whatever they were, would this allow Shiro to be more focused?  Would their team dynamic go back to the way it was?  And then there was a quiet, unwanted thought in the back of her mind that whispered, almost malevolently; would someone ever love her like that?

   “What are you doing?” said a small, high voice.

   Allura leaped to her feet and spun around.  “What?  Nothing!”  She yelled it before she even realized who had entered the room with her.

   Pidge lowered one eyebrow suspiciously at her.  “Doesn’t look like nothing.”  

   Allura turned around and was relieved that she had actually dismissed the footage of the kitchens. 

   The green paladin came up beside the princess and looked up at the large screen above them, still paused in the middle of the prison cell video.  “This is… you recorded their conversation?” she asked.  She looked at Allura.

   The Altean woman shook her head.  “Most of the recordings happen automatically.  There are security cameras in most of the common areas, but there are quite a few more in the cell block.”

   “Did you find anything out?”

   Allura sighed.  “He’s… not what we thought.”  She glanced down at her console.  “He’s not the desperate, control-hungry lunatic I fought down on Aepsis.  He’s intelligent, polite, and he has a very clear idea of who he is and what he has done.”  She shook her head.  “I’m not exactly sure what to make of him anymore.”

   Pidge glanced at her.  “Are you sure he’s not acting?”

   Allura met her gaze.  “That’s just it.  I can’t be sure.”  She indicated Hayze’s image with one outstretched hand.  “He’s an excellent performer; so good, in fact, that he fooled Filomena for four straight years.”  She rewound the video to a certain section, and began playing it.

   “‘You seem fully intent on defining something that cannot be so easily discerned.  What you’re asking of me is impossible, and the fact that you’re asking _me_ , of all your choices, is insane.  If you’re so enamored with her, then stop bothering me with your personal insecurity and just _ask_ her, you dolt.’”

   Allura paused the video.  “This much is real, though.  Not acted.  His speech is typically a bit florid, and he pauses to kind of… _work around_ things he doesn’t want to talk about.  But when he gets frustrated, his pace quickens, and his language becomes more direct.”

   Pidge raised an eyebrow.  “What was he asking Hayze about, there?”

   “Something called a ‘claiming’.  Hayze describes it as a kind of bureaucratic practice of protecting kin or loved ones.”

   The girl scratched her head.  “Where’d he get that idea?”

   Allura sighed.  “Probably from talking to Kolivan.  Add that to the growing feelings between him and Filomena, and the little games we’ve been playing, and it’s no wonder he’s gotten so confused.”

   Pidge scratched her chin thoughtfully.  “Well, maybe there’s something we can do to help.”  She looked at Allura.  “On earth, we have technology to verify information.”

   Allura studied her for a moment before narrowing her eyes.  “ _Benign_ technology?” she asked flatly.

   “Well, there’s tech from all over the spectrum, but I was just talking about a lie detector.”  Her eyebrows came down.  “We’re not actually _in_ counter-terrorism.  None of us… well, I _think_ none of us know any of the more severe interrogation techniques.”

   The princess sighed.  “I suppose Shiro would be the most likely to know any of that.”

   “Probably.”  Pidge reached over and pulled up the map of the ship, and then smiled.  “Huh.  Looks like Miela succeeded.  You think he’s eaten yet?”

   “Er… I’m not sure…”

   “Might as well check in.”

   Allura inhaled, eyes growing wide.  “N-no, wait!”

   Pidge pulled up the security cam for the kitchens, and Allura fell silent.  Shiro and Miela were talking, their faces still close together, smiles still intimate, but it was clear that whatever had happened between them, the moment was over.  Shiro was leaned, half-seated against the kitchen table in a relaxed position that Allura hadn’t seen him take in some time.

   “Hey, lovebirds!” Pidge teased jovially.  “Finished makin’ out yet?”

   Shiro’s dark eyes flicked up at the camera, and the slightly sheepish grin returned to his face.  “For now,” he answered in kind.  “Why?  Did you enjoy the show?”

   “Takashi!” Filomena scolded, her face turning pink.

   “I missed the ‘show’.” Pidge said with a shrug.  “But your body language speaks volumes, let me tell ya.”

   Shiro straightened a little and folded his arms.  “Did you want something, Pidge?”

   “Just checking in.  How are you feeling?”

   “Better.”  He glanced at Filomena, who hid a shy titter behind her hand.

   Pidge crossed her arms and looked at the woman.  “You reduced him to one-word answers?  Filomena, how could you?”

   Miela gave the camera a wry grin.  “I see I’m not exempt from the teasing.”

   “Consider it a mark of affection,” said Pidge.  “Actually, I opened the com to ask if Shiro knew any interrogation techniques.”

   Shiro narrowed his eyes at the camera.  “Mm… no.”

   The girl raised an eyebrow, and then looked at the woman.  “I think you broke him, Miela.  He’s stuck.”

   Filomena smirked.  “That’s strange,” she said.  “He was working just fine a moment ago.”  She reached over and poked his ribs with the tip of one finger.

   “Hey!” Shiro shifted away from her tickling.  Then he sighed and rolled his eyes.  “None I’m willing to share.  None I’m willing to put into practice.”

   Pidge shrugged.  “That’s fair.  Thought I’d ask.  Wanna join us?”

   “Actually, I’m going to pass,” said Shiro, glancing sideways at Filomena.  “I’ve been taking this investigation a little too personally.  I’m going to sit this one out.”

   “Suit yourself.  I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

   Shiro smiled and reached up to touch Filomena’s arm.  “Me too.”

   The green paladin scoffed gently, and closed the channel.  “They’re so cute it’s disgusting,” she muttered.

   Allura glanced at her.  “R-right…”  Then she gathered her thoughts and pushed onward.  “Anyway, see what you and Hunk can come up with, and we’ll go talk with our prisoners.”

   As it turned out, Coran had prior knowledge of Altean polygraph technology, so that saved them a few hours’ work.  Still, Allura insisted that Hunk join them, since he was the one closest to building a relationship with Hayze.  Hunk didn’t like that, and said as much, but didn’t argue their point.

   They parted ways to suit up, and met a few doboshes later in front of Hayze’s cell.  Coran was already there, holding a box-shaped metal object.

   “Is that it?” Pidge asked, pointing.  “It doesn’t look like much.”

   Coran looked down at the girl.  “Contrary to popular belief, not all Altean tech is visually impressive,” he said.  He glanced at the box.  “And this doesn’t really need to be.  What it does more than makes up for its plain appearance.”

   The green paladin grinned.  “Cool.  I can’t wait to see it.”  The smile faded from her face, and she looked over at Allura.  “You wanna open the door, Princess?”

   Hunk folded his arms.  “You’re awfully eager.”

   Pidge harrumphed.  “I’m just here ‘cause I want to check out the Altean lie detector.  I don’t care if I see that purple pile of fur or not.”

   Hunk’s face crunched up in an almost nauseated frown.  “I’d rather _not_ see him,” he said.  “Since you’re here, maybe you could help me out a bit?”

   The girl’s face fell.  “I didn’t know this was going to be that hard on you.” 

   Hunk raised his hands.  “Of _course_ it’s hard on me.  This guy hurt someone we care about.”  He dropped his hands to his sides.  “I don’t like the idea that I might be an advocate for him, or even that I might empathize with him on any level.”  He sighed.  “So, while we’re in there, can you just… back me up a little?”

   Pidge was quiet for a moment, and then she looked at the floor.  “Sorry, Hunk,” she finally said.  “I’ll support you however I can.  I just… I’m not good at that stuff.”

   “Knowing you’re behind me makes it easier,” the yellow paladin said.  “I just needed you to see where I’m coming from.”

   “I understand.”

   Hunk looked over at Allura, smiled reassuringly, and nodded.  “You can open it now.”

   Princess Allura nodded and touched the security panel, and the door slid open.

   Hayze was sitting against the wall in his usual position, legs bent with his lanky arms propped on his knees.  He had been relaxed; they could tell by the way he tensed, his body jerking straight as the door opened.

   His figure relaxed again when he looked up and saw who had entered.  “Two visits in as many days?” he asked.  “I’m surprised you would deign to see me again, Princess.”

   Allura frowned down at him.  “Don’t be so dramatic,” she scolded quietly.  She took two steps into the room with him.

   He harrumphed.  “Why not?” he asked.  “I seem to be very good at it.”  He held up his hands for her, as if he expected her to handcuff him again.

   She narrowed her eyes a little at him, and then flicked her eyes away.  “Please get up.”

   For a moment, he looked surprised that she wasn’t going to cuff him.  Then he obeyed, tucking his feet under him and stretching himself to his full height.

   The princess didn’t seem fazed by his size or his proximity.  She touched a panel inside the door, and a bench slid out behind Hayze, forcing him to step forward.  The larger alien made a noise of surprise and spun around, stepping backward and nearly colliding with Allura.

   She nimbly sidestepped him, and then gestured to the bench.  “Please sit.”

   He glanced at her.  “I haven’t heard ‘please’ so much in a while.”

   “I hope you get used to it.”  She gestured to the bench.

   Hayze slowly turned and sat.  “This was not what I imagined when I came aboard,” he murmured.

   Allura touched another button, and a similar bench slid into view next to her, across the cell from Hayze.  “I’m sure.”

   “What brings you to see me, Princess?”

   She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Your dramatic skills, as it happens.”  She beckoned Coran into the room.  “You’re probably aware that we’ve been watching fairly closely,” she said.

   “I am.”

   Pidge preceded Coran into the cell, and sat next to him on the bench.  Hunk followed them in, but left the door open.

   Allura followed her paladins with her eyes.  “Then you probably also know what’s been going on aboard the ship during your incarceration.”

   “I can guess.”  He leaned back against the wall, and then shrugged.  “Given the nature of my previous visits,” he added.  Then he let out a slow sigh.  “You are here because you can not trust me.”

   “Partially, yes.”

  Hayze raised his eyebrow at her, his scar rising with the motion.  “Only partially?”

   Coran set the box on his lap and opened it.  A large, square screen appeared above it, a transparent blue-green pane through which he could clearly see Hayze’s figure.  “From the security videos of your last visit, we can ascertain certain truths, but it helps us to know your emotional responses to any question we may have.”

   “You are looking for truths within truths.”

   “I suppose you could say that, yes.”  The redheaded man looked up at Hayze through the screen.  The device displayed the Galra trainer outlined in a faded yellow fog.  Coran’s face bent into a sad frown.  Hayze was _scared_.

   Pidge spoke up.  “The first couple questions are baseline diagnostics.  Just answer yes or no.”  She held up two fingers.  “Am I holding up two fingers?”

   “Yes.”

   “Is my shirt red?”

   “No.”

   “Is your name Hayze?”

   “Yes.”

   A red smudge appeared on the display, swirling once across the screen before sinking like a needle into Hayze’s chest.  Coran’s frown deepened.  Hayze was telling the truth, so far as he could tell, but something about that question had hurt the young Galra’s feelings.

   But the anomaly was gone in another tick, and Coran scratched his head as Pidge went on with her questions.

   It was a few more doboshes before Pidge asked any questions pertaining to Hayze’s past, and for those she decided he could answer as he pleased.

   “How long were you based on Aepsis?” she asked.

   He hummed thoughtfully.  “Three years, give or take.”  He reached up and scratched behind his broken ear with one long finger.

   “And before that?”

   “Before that, we were spacefaring.  We had no base of operations.”

   “Then you must have had a large ship at the time.  What became of it?”

   He fixed his eyes on the girl again.  “We cannibalized it, mostly.  Used its parts to update and reinforce parts of the monastery that had decayed.  The newer, smaller ship was an investment Raxxan intended to use to expand.”

   Pidge nodded her understanding.  “Okay, let’s move on, then.  What was your occupation?”

   “I trained slaves to compete in the Arena,” he answered.

   “Why?”

   He didn’t seem to understand the question.  “What do you mean, ‘why’?”  His eyes narrowed, and the display shone red again, this time diffusing further through the yellow mist that surrounded his figure.  “I was a slave.  I did as I was ordered.”

   Pidge held her hands up in a gentle shrug.  “Everyone has their breaking point, where their morals demand something of them that they aren’t strong enough to do.  Where was yours?”  She put her hands in her lap.  “When did it happen?”

   Hayze stared at her for a moment longer, during which time the screen in front of Coran settled on a resigned, faded orange color.  She wasn’t trying to anger him; she just didn’t know.  Hayze sighed and leaned backward again.  “I didn’t have one.”  He flicked his eyes down at the floor before he explained.  “I learned that, barring escape, the Arena is the fastest way to earn one’s freedom.  Every battle a person wins- or even survives- they receive a cut of the spoils and medical care.  After a certain amount of time, they can typically amass enough wealth to buy their freedom.”  He made a shifting motion with both hands.  “In becoming gladiators, they transition from outright slavery to indentured servitude.”

   Pidge shook her head.  “I think you’ve been misinformed,” she said sadly.  “The Galra Empire doesn’t transition its slaves to indentured servants.  Any freedom you gain comes with a pretty hefty price.”  She sat a little straighter.  “Shiro is a prime example.  He was the Galra Empire’s Champion, and they removed his right arm and… we don’t even know what else.”

   The screen grew pale with Hayze’s surprise.  “I… I was not aware.”

   “What about you?” Allura asked.  “Why weren’t you a gladiator?”

   The screen on Coran’s device sank into a deep, navy blue.

   “I wanted to be, but I was never for sale.”

   “Why not?”

   “I don’t know.  You would have to ask Raxxan.”

   Hunk finally spoke up.  “On that note,” he said, “why _are_ you a slave, anyway?  Most of the known universe is controlled by the Galra.”

   Hayze shrugged.  “Something to do with my parents, I think.  I was quite young, and not terribly aware of the goings-on at the time.”  He looked at the floor.  “Raxxan keeps my personal file locked away, so I have no access to my family’s history.”

   Hunk sighed and sat down on the bench, next to Coran.  “We should get to the main reason we’re here,” he said resignedly.  “You know Filomena has the right to your judgement, per Princess Allura’s command.  We want to know if there is anything you have to say in your defense.”

   Hayze stared at him, silently.

   “Really?” Hunk asked.  “You’d let her pass judgement on you, even if it meant you _died_ , even though she doesn’t know the whole story?”

   “The rest of the story doesn’t matter,” Hayze said.  “I had other options.  She was right; I could have been kind, and yet I abused every angle of my position.”

   Hunk blinked, then one side of his face drew up in a grimace.  “Did you have feelings for her?”

   “What does _that_ mean?”

   “Did you care about her?  Love her, maybe?”

   Coran’s display turned bright pink with Hayze’s embarrassment, and then went red again.  The young Galra’s left ear angled backward angrily, and he lowered his chin toward his chest in a clearly defensive posture.  “Now just _wait_ ,” he snapped.  “What I did to her had _nothing_ to do with my emotions.”

   Pidge interjected before he could continue into what was sure to be a scathing tirade.  “I don’t think that’s what he means.”

   Hayze stopped and flicked his eyes at her, and his left ear shifted upward in puzzlement.  Coran’s red-tinted screen faded a little.  “Oh?  What, then?”

   The green paladin held up her hands and gestured for him to calm down.  “We all saw the surveillance video of you talking to Shiro,” she said.  “We know why you killed her… whatever he was.  Her friend.  Donovan.”

   “And?”

   “Everything that followed his death fits together like puzzle pieces.”  Pidge looked at her hands to elaborate.  “He died, she attacked you, Raxxan gave you your options.”  She looked up at Hayze.  “But you could have killed her, and instead you took a route that was probably much more difficult on both of you.  Why?”

   Coran’s display went back to that faded orange color.  “The simple answer is because I am a coward,” he said.  “Killing Donovan was… difficult.  But I did it because he _asked_ me to, and I respected him deeply.  But when it came to talking to Filomena… I know she wouldn’t believe it, but the woman terrifies me.”  A shiver ran up Hayze’s long spine, and the lie detector turned yellow again.  “I am not a good person.  I never was, I don’t think.  So when she attacked me, I let her win.  I didn’t even try to explain my actions to her.  Then Raxxan delivered his ultimatum, and… and after that… I… I had my revenge.”  He said it simply and a little too quickly, without malice or enjoyment, and the lie detector’s screen lit up with streaks of frightened yellow and deep, army green.  Was he _ashamed_?  “Some days I wish I hadn’t.  Sometimes I wish we had been friends.  But I always knew there would be a day when something happened: she or I might die, or we might be sold…”  Hayze swallowed the lump in his throat.  “And I would rather her not miss me.”  He thought for a moment.  “It occurred to me later, when I found out she was with child, that I could groom her to be the next… what was it she called me?  _Doctore_?”  He hummed.  “Yes, I think that was it.  I had hoped she would bond with the child, so that she wouldn’t want to leave him.  Then I could be sold, and Filomena would take my place.  But… I underestimated her greatly.”  He sighed.  “No, if I had cared for her, loved her as you say, instead of fighting for my own _selfish_ gains, then I never would have hurt her in the first place.”

   The room went quiet.  All of the occupants of the cell came to the same conclusion at the same time; Hayze knew _exactly_ what he had done to Filomena.  No one was sure whether that made his situation better or worse.

   Pidge finally looked at the floor.  “I don’t envy either of you,” she said at last.  “Filomena has a difficult decision ahead of her, and you… you would let her do whatever she wants, because to you, no punishment would be too harsh.”

   “That is correct.”

   The green paladin sighed, and stood up.  “I think we got what we came for,” she said.  She glanced over at the redheaded man.  “Pack it up, Coran.”

   “Wait,” said Hunk.  The rest of them looked up at the yellow paladin, and he turned to face Hayze with a pleading expression.  “Don’t let it go like this, Hayze,” he said.  “There’s got to be something you can say; something you need her to know!”

   Hayze raised an eyebrow at him.  “Before or after my execution?”

   Hunk just stared at him.

   “You don’t want me to die, do you?” Hayze asked simply.  He scoffed gently.  “How useless.  My life is worth whatever Raxxan paid for me.  Nothing more.”  He studied Hunk for a moment, and then sighed and looked away.  “You have been kind to me,” he murmured.  “And… I sense that it isn’t a façade.  You are good people, and you have treated me like… like I could be valuable… no… like I could _mean_ something to someone.”  He folded his hands and studied his fingers.  “So I will leave a record for her.  Whether you give it to her before or after my judgement is up to you.”

   Everyone seemed to relax a little.

   “Great,” said Pidge.  She sat back down next to Coran, and then touched a few buttons on her gauntlet.  “We’re ready to record you.”

   Hayze stared at her.  “What do I say?”

   The girl shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Whatever you want her to hear.”

   He watched her a moment longer, and then he averted his gaze.  “Very well.”

   He was quiet for several more ticks, almost long enough for Pidge to wonder whether or not he would record anything at all.  Then, very quietly, he began.

   “I know my voice is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I am told that this may very well be the last record of my existence.  I suppose you want to know why I… why I did the things I did, but I’m not going to tell you.  It doesn’t matter.  There are no words in my language or any other to excuse my actions, or to beg for forgiveness that I may never deserve.

   “Over the last four years, I have lied to you and every other member of our community, every day, carefully, and with intent, so that neither you nor anyone else will remember me kindly.  Truth be told, my original intent was simply to be forgotten.  I knew that you and I would part, and I would rather have not had a place in your heart, for good or for ill.  But, in becoming your trainer, Raxxan removed that choice from me.

   “In the last several years, I have lost countless companions, people I held dear, including our mutual friend, Donovan Ray Miles.  He was… insistently friendly, and despite my frigid attitudes, I warmed to him, and _loved_ him, as my own.  No matter the circumstance, his death is on my hands, and I accept that.  It will follow me to the end of my days.

   “With this in mind, I beg you to remember that this is not an apology.  I have neither the courage nor the words to ask that of you.  I am a coward, and if you must know, there has not been a moment when I was proud to be who I am.  But… I admire you.  I am proud of you.  I wish I could say I _like_ you, but I’m not sure what that would mean.  You are by far the strongest individual I have ever known; stronger than Donovan, stronger than me.”  He smiled, more to himself than to the camera.  “Perhaps this is just my personal idolatry, but after this harrowing ordeal I put you through, I feel as if there shouldn’t be a single thing in this universe that ever scares you again.”  He scoffed quietly.  “What a high pedestal I have placed you on.”

   He sighed and went on.  “I envy your black paladin, Shiro.  Not for his position beside you; because, again, I don’t know what that would mean; but for his fortitude, the perspective with which he goes about his existence.  I have lived the last half of my life in black and white, and I wish I could see the shades of gray between.  Donovan was good at it.  Shiro is good at it.  I… I am not.

   “This will be the last thing, I think.  If there is one thing I would ask of you, it is that you do not let my failures… my crimes… affect the person you are.  My opinion of you should mean nothing, I know, and if it comes to my life… I would not blame you for your choice.  Be well, and… enjoy your freedom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think any of you will ever understand how hard this was for me to write; it's very easy to see people in black or white, to hate people for one crime that defines them for the rest of their lives. I've had to learn over the years that this simply isn't right. It doesn't excuse the perpetrator's actions in any way, but it does allow us a sense of clarity; it provides the victim relief. Hate, for yourself or for your wrongdoer, is not an asset. Ever. It burns us up and makes us bitter, and blinds us to the things that matter. It was a hard lesson to learn. #MeToo


	90. “The One That Got Away” - The Civil Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge has a sudden flash of empathy, and doesn't take it well. Miela watches the videos, Keith shows an unusual display of level-headedness, and helps her figure out how to sentence Hayze.

   The air felt heavier after the paladins left Hayze’s cell; so much so that none of them spoke for several minutes after they left.  The Galra _doctore_ they had been fighting against, who had tried to break Filomena and the many who trained before her, was too much more than they had expected.  He was smart and charming, but so clearly broken that he no longer thought he deserved to be helped.  Maybe that was true, or maybe it wasn’t.  Perhaps that’s where the heavy atmosphere came from; they all knew that it was up to Filomena to decide the fate of the man who had hurt her, and none of them had the power to oppose her decision.

   Pidge didn’t immediately show Filomena the video of Hayze’s last confessions.  She told Allura later that she could afford to let Miela and Shiro go about the remainder of their evening in peace, and perhaps start fresh in the morning.  No one really wanted to broach the subject with her, to reopen an already severe wound, but time was slowly running out.

   The green paladin changed out of her armor and went to check on the former slaves that were crowding the sleep chamber.  It was louder now, and more lively.  The healthy ones outnumbered the wounded.  And there, on the other side of the room, Filomena was chatting animatedly with a few of her friends, and Shiro was holding her baby, tickling him and then letting the little boy gnaw on the fingers of his prosthetic.  Bonding.  That would hurt him later, Pidge thought.  But she couldn’t help but grin when Shiro leaned in and blew a raspberry on Cesare’s cheek, startling the aliens around him with the unusual sound.  Cesare squealed with laughter, and then Filomena chuckled, and the rest of them went back to talking.

   Pidge didn’t want to talk to anyone; she just wanted to see who was left in line for the cryo-pods, and there weren’t many.  It shouldn’t have affected her emotions, but she felt twisted up inside, all of a sudden.  She didn’t like this.  She knew what it was, what it was called; empathy.  She just… didn’t like it.  It made her want to tackle-hug Filomena and apologize for all the bad things that ever happened to her, even though Pidge couldn’t have prevented any of it, and none of it was her fault.

   She turned and left before anyone saw her.  That was just fine, because her eyes were starting to water.  She didn’t know where to go or what to do.  There was plenty to be done, but for some reason she couldn’t think of anything more important than going back to her room and disappearing for a while.  Was this what Shiro was feeling this whole time?

   Before she even realized it, she was running.  She ran through the corridor, trying to make the burning in her lungs overpower the stinging in her eyes.  She passed the baths, and then the lounge… and then the door to her quarters.  But she ran out of stamina at what might’ve been the worst possible time.

   She stopped to catch her breath, trying to combat the tears in her vision by focusing on what was going on in the rest of her body.  Her legs hurt, and her heart was pounding.  Pidge braced a hand on the wall next to her and bent forward in exhaustion.

   “You okay?”

   She looked up at Lance, who had just opened the door to his room and was staring at her from directly across the hall.  He was in his blue tee shirt and jeans, but his jacket was missing.

   Pidge straightened.  “I’m fine.”

   Lance gave her a dry look.  “You… ran all the way here?” he asked.

   “N-no!” the girl retorted.  “Not… all the way.”

   The blue paladin folded his arms and gave her a self-confident smirk.  “Did you want to see me that bad, Pidge?  You could’ve just commed me.”

   “Who said this had anything to do with you?” she snapped.  Lance dropped his smile in an instant, and Pidge abruptly realized she had shouted at him.  She looked at her feet.  “I just… needed to get away for a minute.”

   Lance let his arms drop back to his sides.  It wasn’t like Pidge to get emotional like this.  “Do you need to talk to someone?” he asked softly.  She looked up at him, but didn’t say anything.  “I’m not… I… I might not have all the answers, but… I might make a pretty good sounding board.”

   She studied him for a moment, and that was about all it took for her to tell he had let down his egotistical wall for her.  Her eyes widened a little at the realization.  Then she turned and leaned heavily into the wall behind her, and cast her gaze down at her sneakers.

   “We saw Hayze,” she said quietly.

   For a couple ticks, Lance looked surprised that she had elected to share her feelings with him, but the expression faded as her narrative went on.  For what she thought might be the first time, he listened to her.  He never interrupted.  He didn’t have any irritating comments.  He didn’t even wear that smug, Cheshire Cat grin everyone was used to.

   Maybe that was why she started crying.  The tears stopped up her nose, and she wiped her face with the cuffs of her sleeves, but she couldn’t stop.  Her voice started breaking, warbling with her hysteria and the shaking sobs in her shoulders.

   Two gentle hands pulled her in and pressed her against a warm, lean chest, and Pidge inhaled sharply and opened her red-rimmed eyes.  She froze, staring into Lance’s shirt, until he wrapped her up in a hug, his fingers cradling the back of her head, pressing her face into his shoulder.  She cut her eyes up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her… no.  He was making a point of not looking at her.

   “Go ahead,” he murmured.  “I won’t tell anybody.”

   She waited for him to do something, _anything_ , to break her out of this mood and put that wall between them again.  Say something stupid.  Flirt badly with the most socially awkward person on the ship.  Embarrass me; now would be the perfect time.

   But he didn’t.

   He didn’t push her or pull her; the weight of her head was too heavy to bear any more, and she leaned her face into his shoulder.  He smelled warm and heavy, like oil or some kind of lotion.  Smooth.  Relaxed.

   She lost four more tears into the front of his shirt, and the rest faded away, evaporating like mist under the warmth of his hands.

   He didn’t invite her into his quarters.  He didn’t say anything, and Pidge wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he stood there and offered her his shoulder, and that was all she really needed.

   That was all it took to make the task ahead of her more bearable.  If her calculations were correct, and they usually were, then they might have four days left to heal the rest of the slaves.  After that, it was just a matter of sending them all home.

   Pidge didn’t think she would, but she slept well that night.  She was too tired to dream, and she overslept her alarm, but no one called for her.  No one knocked.  She woke up and stared at the wall for several doboshes before she realized this.  Funny, she thought, I’m usually on-call twenty vargas a quintant.  Had Lance told someone?  He said he wouldn’t tell.  The thought of that potentially broken promise made her face heat up.  Then something else occurred to her.  Of all the paladins, Lance’s pride was the most fragile.  If he said anything, it would mean there might be a soft heart underneath all that ego and boyish fickleness.  Lance would never want something like that to be revealed.

   She smirked.  Maybe she could trust him, just this once.

   She found Filomena in the sleep chamber, helping Matik pull a dazed alien out of one of the cryo-pods.  The creature stumbled, said something sleepily and leaned its head into the brunette’s shoulder.  Filomena laughed and patted her friend on the back, and let Matik lead them away.

   Pidge helped her lead another of the slaves into the pod, and when she had finally bid them goodnight, the green paladin led her aside.

   “Where’s Cesare?” the girl asked.

   Miela jerked her head over her shoulder.  “Hunk took him to get something to eat.”  She laughed under her breath.  “It’s a pity.  He…”  She looked away suddenly.  “He’s… starting to fall in love with you guys.”

   Pidge watched her for only a tick, and then she looked at the floor.  “I was given… a very difficult task,” she said.  “And the worst part is that I’m not good at relating to other people.”  She fidgeted with the tips of her fingers.  “Last night, I experienced a type of empathy I think I might not feel again for awhile.”  

   The woman looked surprised.  “For me?”

   Pidge nodded.  “I learned a lot of things I didn’t want to know, and… I don’t know.  For a little while, I couldn’t help but feel like he’d violated me, too, somehow.”

   There was a tense moment of silence, and then Filomena’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.  “Oh, Pidge…”

   The girl let Miela’s warmth soak into her for a few seconds.  When her friend released her, Pidge held out a small thumb drive to Filomena.  “So, before you watch this video, I want to say I’m sorry.”

   “Sorry?” Filomena asked.  “What for?”

   Pidge swallowed.  “For everything he did.  For everything you’re about to find out about him.”  Miela took the device, glanced at it, and then looked back up at Pidge.  “If you… if you need to watch the security footage, I’ll let you.  I think I should warn you, it’s… confusing.”  The girl shrugged.  “That’s kind of why I brought it to you here.  I thought your friends could help you with your decision.”

   Miela gave her a funny look, and then a slightly sad smile.  “You _are_ my friend, Pidge.  Your opinion matters to me, as much as anyone else’s.”

   The green paladin smiled, but shook her head.  “You’re my friend too, Miela.  But I couldn’t help you.”  She folded her arms and pouted.  “All it took was meeting with the purple jerk for an hour, and he had me in tears.”

   Miela laughed under her breath.  “I’ve felt that feeling on my own skin,” she said sympathetically.

   Pidge granted her a weary smile.  “Let me know if there’s anything I _can_ do to help, though.”

   Miela returned the smile nervously and gestured with the thumb drive.  “Wish me luck.”

   Pidge stood dutifully by while Miela plugged the thumb drive into the column in the center of the sleep chamber.  The former prisoners gathered around her, crowding in to share in the strength they must have thought Filomena exuded.

   A large screen popped up above the column, Hayze’s face coming into focus.  The group collectively shifted backward with a few low, dismayed sounds.

   “We’re ready to record you.”

   Hayze looked up at someone off-screen.  “What do I say?”

   Filomena’s face went pale.  His voice was so soft, so unsure.  This couldn’t be the same person.  She swallowed and tried to breathe through the urge to pass out, or throw up, or whatever the feeling was.  Then she felt five small, nimble fingers touch the inside of her palm.  She glanced over at the green paladin, and then quickly knit her shaking fingers with Pidge’s.

   Pidge stood there in the crowd and watched the short video of Hayze’s last testament, with Filomena clinging to her hand.  When it was over, and her hand was cramping, Filomena nervously released her, muttering apologies and something about her nerves.  In truth, Pidge couldn’t make much of it out over the murmur that started soon following the video.

   “I… I have to go.”  She made out those breathless words, at least.  Filomena turned and tried to push her way back through the crowd of prisoners.  

   She was stopped by a small, violet skinned figure with six chubby arms and knobby protrusions on her head.  “Please, Honey…”  The rest was lost in a melange of thoughts and sentiments coming from the rest of the prisoners.  Don’t kill him.  Let him rot.  Have mercy.  Betrayer!

   “No, I can’t…”  Filomena backed away, bumping into another of her companions’ hands.  She jerked around at the sensation against her back.  “No, please, I can’t do this…”  Each new word felt a rock being thrown at her.  She curled her arms in close to her body as they built up on top of her.  “Let me out… Let me out!”

   Pidge grabbed her hand and pulled, and a break appeared in the crowd.  Filomena felt herself reeling sideways, until she was free of the clot of warm bodies.  Pidge released her hand, and then she was running, out of the room, not stopping to hear the door close or to see if the girl was following her.  She could still hear them calling her name over and over, desperate for a leader, a counselor, a source of comfort that she could never be.  It was too much.

   She ran until long after the muscles in her abdomen began to protest their overuse, after she had lost her direction and come to an abrupt halt at a dead end corridor.  She paced back and forth at the end of the hall, pulling the tips of the short strands of hair at her temple and mumbling to herself.  Her mind was so busy, spinning through the videos she and Pidge and the others had watched together, that she didn’t even notice when someone said her name.

   “Miela?”

   “No.  No!  I can’t do this.  I don’t want to do this!”

   A hand grabbed her arm, and she screamed and spun around.  There was a flash of violet; was it him?  Did they let him out?  Filomena flung a startled punch at the person who had grabbed her.

   Her punch connected with the palm of a hand, fingers closed tightly over her knuckles, and he pushed her into the wall.  “Filomena!  Snap out of it!”

   Filomena blinked the blurriness out of her vision, making tears roll down her cheeks.  Violet _eyes_.  Just his _eyes_.  The rest was thick waves of black hair and pale skin.  She took a deep breath and recognized him.

   “Keith?”

   His expression relaxed a little.  “What happened?”

   “Let me go.  Please.”  She hated how desperate she sounded, hated that her eyes were still streaming, vision still going in and out of focus.

   His grip tightened.  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

   Stars were beginning to form at the periphery of her vision, and she began to struggle against his hands.  “Please,” she begged.  “Please!”

   “Filomena, look at me.”  He gently adjusted his grip to her wrist, and she looked at him.  “Your face just went pale.  Take a breath, or you’re going to faint.”

   That explained the cold sweat that had just run down her spine.  The woman heaved a breath, and then gasped when Keith kicked her feet apart with the heel of his boot.  “Bend your knees,” he ordered.  He wedged his kneecap between hers, but her legs clenched, shutting him out.  He looked up at her again.  “Miela, it’s _me_.  I’m not going to hurt you.  You just have to bend your knees so you don’t pass out.”  

   She caught the shoulder of his jacket in her left hand and dug her fingers into the red leather.  “I’m going to fall!” she whimpered.

   “I’ve got you.  I won’t let you fall.”  He moved his hand to her ribcage, reassuring her of his support.

   Filomena studied him for a few more ticks, and then she allowed her shaking knees to buckle.  Keith bore her weight, just like he promised, and he eased them down onto the corridor floor, his arm still wrapped protectively around her back.  “Now,” he said gently, “what is going on?”

   She didn’t know where to start, so she shook her head and said the first thing that came to mind.  “Hayze… he shouldn’t be my responsibility.”

   Keith sighed.  “No, he shouldn’t.”

   “Everyone has a different idea of what I should do, and… and I just can’t do it!  I can't make that kind of call!”  She shook her head again.  “I’m not like that.  I’ve never ki-…”  She swallowed, and then covered a sob that burst out of her mouth.  “I can’t kill him.  I can’t do this.  I’m not _like_ that.”  She raised her hands to cover her eyes.  “ _Porca miseria_!  He was _right_!”

   Keith raised an eyebrow.  “Hayze?” he asked.  Miela nodded from behind her hands.  He thought about this for a moment.  “So?” he finally asked.  “We all knew you weren’t like that.”

   She peeked out from behind her hands.  “You did?”

   He laughed under his breath.  “Yeah.  It’s not exactly a secret.”  He rubbed his palm over the center of her back.  “The fact that Hayze knows something like that… it doesn’t mean anything.  Well, now that I think about it, it probably took him a lot longer to figure out than it took me.”  He laughed again.  “Makes me feel a little better about myself, actually.  I’m not exactly the most social animal.”

   Miela wiped her eyes.  “What do I do?” she asked.  “I don’t… I don’t want this responsibility.  I thought I did, but now that I have to choose…”

   Keith watched her for a moment, until he realized she wasn’t going to finish that sentence.  Then he sighed and looked at the floor.  “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but the answer is closer than you think.  And… you won’t regret your choice.”  He gave her a wan smirk.  “You’re more than capable of making the decision.  All you need is the right set of options.”

   “I don’t even know what my options are,” she moaned.

   “You could kill him, sure,” he said, “but there’s a dozen other fitting punishments you could use.”  Keith settled himself against the wall beside her and began counting on his fingers.  “You could strand him somewhere, or keep him imprisoned, or sentence him to hard labor…  Or you could just shift the responsibility to someone else.”  He looked up at the ceiling for a moment.  “I wonder what the Galra punishment would be for this kind of thing.”

   Her hands had descended to cup thoughtfully over her mouth.  “When did you know you were half Galra?” she asked.

   “Not long ago, actually,” said Keith.  “The Blade of Marmora put me through a set of trials, and… I found out through them.”

   “Trials?” she asked, flicking her eyes up at him.  “Not medical tests?”

   Keith shook his head.  “It’s… complicated.  Brutal.”  He looked down, and seemed to realize for the first time that he was holding her hand.  Instead of jerking away and apologizing awkwardly, he studied her skin, running his thumb over the ring of scar tissue around her wrist.  “They have this saying; ‘knowledge or death,’ and they stick to it.  If you survive the trials, you can safely assume you’re one of them.”

   “And if you don’t?”

   Keith shrugged.  “I guess death is its own punishment.  Or mercy, if you want to think about it that way.”

   He could see the gears inside her head begin to turn again.  She took a deep breath.  “I need to speak with Kolivan.”

   Shock crossed the red paladin’s face.  “You jumped to that conclusion really quickly.”  Filomena tried to get to her feet, but her knees were still shaking.  Keith helped her up and propped her against the wall.  “Are you sure about this?” he asked.  “You already know this, but Kolivan is Galra.”

   The woman heaved a breath and wiped her face with the heel of her hand.  “Yes, I knew that.”

   “And you’re still okay with talking to him?” Keith asked.  When she looked at him, he amended his question.  “I’m not judging you.  I just want to make sure you’re prepared to take that step.”

   She chuckled nervously.  “You sound like Takashi.”

   The comment made Keith smile, and then, for a reason the red paladin himself couldn’t quite fathom, he blushed deeply.

   Filomena smirked at his reaction, then sniffed and tried to calm down enough to stop trembling.  “I appreciate your concern,” she said, “but I have to try.  If I don’t want to have any regrets in this _fiasco_ , then I’ll have to face my fears.”

   Keith studied her eyes for a few ticks, waiting to see if she was serious.  Instead of immediately recognizing it, his brain flicked through several unrelated thoughts before arriving at his conclusion.  She was _pretty_.  Maybe not the same kind of pretty as Allura, but she was definitely attractive.  How could she be so much older than him?  If only he could be a few years older, wiser, more grounded.  If only there were a year in his life when he could be like her… like _Shiro_.

   He looked away.  “I like you, Miela.”

   She looked puzzled.  “Ah…  I like you too, Keith.”  She shook her head.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know where that suddenly came from.”

   Keith felt his face heat up.  “I just… was thinking about how you said I sounded like Shiro.  He says that too, sometimes; that I sound like him.”  He cut his eyes up at her, sheepishly.  “I… I didn’t want this to look like an… an advance.  You know, like I was making a pass at you.  I know you’re with him.”

   “Keith,” she said softly, “are you jealous?”  Her voice was soft and concerned, as if she was worried she had done something to mislead him.

   He glanced at her briefly, and then cocked his head to acknowledge her, and looked at the floor again.  “I was,” he admitted.  “But I think I realized… I’m not ready for something like this.”  He shook his head.  “You’ve got that… that _raw_ sort of beauty; the kind that bites when you try to take advantage of it, and I like that.  I respect that, more than I think you know.”  He looked up at her.  “It’s not anything you did, Miela.  People just _like_ you.  They fall in love with you just because of who you are.”

   She looked worried.  “Did you?”

   He harrumphed and angled his head down so that he was looking up at her from under the waves of hair over his face.  “I don’t know you well enough to answer that.”  He raised his face again.  “But I know enough to tell you I like you.  So I thought you should know.”

   She watched him for a moment longer, and then she chuckled under her breath and combed his hair away from his face.  “You’re a good man, Keith.  And I think you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

   He cupped the back of her hand, enjoying the comfort he found in her touch.  “You think they’ll be anything like you?”

   She laughed.  “They could be anything.”  She tapped the tip of his nose with one finger.  “Anything except what you expected.”  He snorted, and that made her laugh again.  “You have a certain charm,” she admitted.  “Were I a younger woman…”  She paused, and her smile faded.  I would have broken your heart.

   “Don’t do that.”  Keith shook his head.  “There’s no point.  You were different, then.  Too different.”  He gave her a rare reassuring smile.  “Don’t worry about me.  I’ll be fine.”  He patted her shoulder.  “I’ll go see if I can arrange an audience with Kolivan.”

   She nodded.  “Wonderful.”  She looked down in thought.  “I should go change.”

   Keith harrumphed.  “Yeah, wear your battle dress.”

   She gave him a playful shove.  “Don’t be absurd.”  She raised her chin knowingly.  “I’ll save my battle dress for _real_ opponents.”  She pushed herself away from the wall and began her walk back to her quarters.

   Keith raised an eyebrow.  “I’d love to see it.”

   “I’ll bet you would.”


	91. “God Bless the Child” - Billie Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filomena conveys her solution to Kolivan... and finds out the other half of the story.

   Keith called on her at her room two hours later.  She answered his summons in barely a tick, and Keith was so startled by how quickly she opened the door that he backed up a step.  He quickly flicked his eyes down at her figure.  She was wearing a pair of black slacks and a simple white button-down, and black pumps.  He cocked his head when he realized she was only wearing one earring.

   “What?” she asked, blinking at him.  “This is business.  I figured I would dress appropriately.”  She reached up and began inserting the matching earring into her left earlobe.

   For the moment, Keith found himself at a loss for words, so he simply shook his head at her and gestured for her to lead the way.

   “What do I need to expect?” she asked nervously.

   Keith glanced at her.  “He’s very cautious.  He respects you if you don’t back down.”

   She harrumphed.  “Well, then.  I suppose I can just be myself, then.”

   The red paladin laughed under his breath.  “He’ll be at your mercy.”

   She gave a derisive snort.  “Like I need any more men at my mercy.”

   Keith harrumphed.  “Kolivan would be a good one to have, though.”

   “Don’t tempt me.”  She took a deep breath and wrung her hands as they approached the doors to the dining room.

   Shiro, Pidge and Allura were already inside, and seemed to be having a quiet, animated conversation with two massive humanoids in black suits and masks.  As had become the unfortunate norm, Shiro looked upset.

   Keith cleared his throat, and the group collectively looked up at the noise.

   “Oh,” said Shiro.  “Filomena.”  He stopped, cleared his throat, and then presented her to the two tall figures.  “Kolivan, Antok, this is Filomena.”  He held out his hand, and the woman slid her tiny hand into his.

   The smaller of the two studied her through his mask, and then turned to Shiro.  “From the way you speak of her, I expected her to be taller,” he mused.

   “Kolivan,” Shiro chided.

   Filomena managed a knowing chuckle.  “I’ve been told that before,” she said.  She held out her hand.  “Good to know you.”

   “Would that it were under better circumstances,” Kolivan said, clasping her arm firmly.  “The black paladin speaks highly of you.”  He released her arm a little too quickly, and Filomena cocked an eyebrow.

   “I hope I’m not being impolite,” she said quietly, “but would that have something to do with your… your masks?”

   Antok harrumphed and folded his arms.  “Our leader thought it prudent to cover our faces, to avoid leaving you with a poor impression of us.”  His voice was deep and strict, and had a strong undercurrent of disdain.

   Kolivan glanced up at his aide, and then down at the woman before him.  “It is a sad thing, but our race is fairly accustomed to being poorly received.  And, because of your particular misfortune, it seemed right to afford you this courtesy upon our meeting.”

   Filomena glanced at Shiro, realizing then that he had told them her story.  “I… I see.”  She returned her gaze to the smaller of the two Galra.  “It’s a thoughtful gesture, and I appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have to hide your faces on my account.”

   “You presume much,” Antok quipped.  “You have little to do with the masks we wear.”

   Filomena looked up at him.  “I’m aware of that.  I merely mean to say you need not add another reason to your list.”

   Kolivan and Antok looked at each other, and then the smaller of the Galra returned his attention to the woman.  “Very well.”  His mask faded from across his chiseled features, revealing golden eyes and red facial markings that contrasted brightly against his periwinkle-colored fur.  He pulled his hood down, carefully avoiding the tips of his ears.  “I am Kolivan, leader of the Blade of Marmora.  I understand you have a proposition for us.”

   Filomena squeezed Shiro’s hand tightly, and then let his fingers wind between hers.  I’m here.  Don’t be afraid.  She took a calming breath.  “I do.”

   Princess Allura took her place at the head of the table, and Kolivan took a seat on her left side.  The rest of them sat down the right side of the table, except Antok, who chose to stand guard over his superior’s shoulder.

   “I must say, you’ve surprised me, Filomena,” said Allura, folding her hands in front of her chin.  “I figured you would be the last person to request this sort of meeting.”

   Filomena made a slight noise of disagreement.  “Not the last.  But I suppose I see what you mean.”  She sighed.  “My quarrel is not with the Galra as a race.  It makes this meeting somewhat easier.”

   Kolivan knitted his claw-tipped fingers and rested his hands on the table.  “But you are responsible for the fate of one of our race.”

   The human woman looked at him.  “Yes.  It’s not a decision to be made lightly, and that’s why I decided to come to you.”

   “For what crimes are you judging him?”

   Filomena looked at the table.

   “Aside from the obvious,” Kolivan amended.  “We will take that into account in our discussions.”

   Shiro squeezed her hand to keep her from answering, and she glanced at him.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but you need to know.”  He stood up from his seat and looked at Kolivan.  “Assault and battery, assault with a deadly weapon, sapient trafficking, and…” he swallowed.

   “And?” Filomena asked.

   Shiro looked at the table.  “Assisted suicide.”

   Filomena gasped and released his hand.  “Takashi…”  She studied him a moment, and then stood up, leaning closer.  “Surely you mean murder… don’t you?”

   The black paladin shook his head. 

   The woman took a step backward.  “Y-you mean…Donovan…”

   “He was dying, Filomena.”

   Filomena seemed to lose the strength in her legs, and collapsed in her chair.

   Shiro looked up at Kolivan to resume his delivery.  “Filomena’s friend and fellow human was terminally ill, and requested that Hayze end his life.”

   The woman covered her mouth in shock.  Matik would have known this all along.  One more thing the Grey had hidden from her.  Pidge got up from her seat and cupped both hands comfortingly around her friend’s shoulders.

   Kolivan raised one eyebrow.  “Please continue.  I know this is difficult, but if what the green paladin says is true, then your time with us is limited.  What is it you want us to do?”

   Miela wiped her eyes, careful not to smear her makeup, and straightened.  She swallowed the anger and resentment, felt it burning in the pit of her stomach, and used it to haul herself back to her feet.  “I would like you to put Hayze through your trials.”

   The smaller of the Galra was quiet while he studied her.  “Do you know what you are asking?” he said.  “It could mean a death sentence for him.”

   She nodded.  “It could.”  The anger inside her was starting to boil, and she looked Kolivan dead in the eye.  “My intention here would be to subject him to the knowledge of what could have been; the possibility of all the things he willfully avoided.”  She shrugged.  “If he dies, then that will be a fitting punishment.  If he survives, that will suffice as atonement.”

   The leader of the Blade of Marmora was quiet for a few more ticks.  “You _do_ know what you are asking, after all,” he mused quietly.  “Hayze is an excellent fighter,” Kolivan said.  “I’d wager better than any one of your paladins.”

   “That’s true,” said Shiro.  “It took both Allura and me to subdue him.”

   Kolivan went on.  “The sheer cost of medical care for my team during and after the trials would be exorbitant.  Whether he dies or not, the trials might not be cost effective for you.”

   “Try me.”

   The smaller of the Galra seemed intrigued by the relatively small woman’s hard-headedness, but Antok took a step forward.  “What you are asking would require millions, perhaps tens of millions of GAC.  We are exceptional at what we do, but we don’t have the resources to do what you’re asking.”

   Pidge spoke up.  “You made an exception for Keith.”

   “Yes, we did,” said Kolivan calmly.  “That is not an exception we make frivolously.”

   “Would you make an exception for someone whose parentage was directly linked to the Blade of Marmora?” the girl asked.

   Filomena turned and looked at her.  “What?”

   Pidge looked at her.  “We talked to Raxxan.  The entire reason Hayze is a slave, and not part of the Galra Empire, is because his parents were rebels.  The Galra Empire _sold_ him into slavery when he was fifteen, probably right after his parents died.”

   “No,” said Kolivan, as if there had not been an interruption.  “At this point, no exceptions can be made.”  He leaned back in his chair.  “I wish we could help you, but the expense outweighs the value of the act.”

   The woman considered him for another two ticks, and then smirked.  “This brings me to another problem with which I could use some help.”

   “And you think we can help you with this problem, as well?”

   She nodded.  “I’m sure of it.”  She sat down again.  “Pidge, would you mind bringing up that account statement?”

   “Sure.”  The girl opened the massive screen in the middle of the table.

   Filomena looked up at Kolivan, and then at Antok.  “I’ve recently come into a… _considerable_ amount of money, which would become worthless upon my return to my home planet.”

   “And you _are_ planning to return home?” Kolivan asked.

   “That was my plan, yes.”  She glanced up at Shiro, but he said nothing, so she went on.  “There’s no place for me or my son in this war.  Shiro and the other paladins understand that.”

   Antok was staring up at the numbers on the screen.  “Are these figures correct?” he asked.  “Over a _billion_ GAC?”

   Kolivan held up both hands.  “Let me see if I have this right: you intend to _give_ us all your assets upon your return to Earth.”

   “Every last coin.”  Filomena shook her head.  “I’ve made what purchases I need.  The rest is of no use to me.  After that, you will be able to deal with Hayze how you see fit, since I will not be present to pass my own judgement.”

   Antok folded his arms.  “It was never your intention to judge him, was it?”

   She looked at him.  “No, that’s not true.  In the beginning, I’m fairly sure I could have killed him with my bare hands.  But the more I’ve come to find out about him, the more I’ve realized that this was never my call to make.  It would not be right of me to make such a biased call on my limited knowledge of the facts.”  She looked at the table.  “And I’ve come to realize… I would never forgive myself for judging him by my personal grudges.”

   Kolivan’s eyes widened at her admission.  “It is my personal belief that you would have been justified in that particular execution,” he said.  “But I see that you are… a _just_ woman.  The paladins are fortunate to have you on their side.”

   “Thank you.”

   The smaller of the two Galra stood up from his seat, hands pressed into the table for support.  “If there is nothing left to discuss, then we should prepare.  When do you intend to pass judgement?”

   “As soon as possible.”

   Shiro glanced at her, but said nothing.  Was she so eager to be done with this?

   Kolivan hummed, and then nodded.  “It will take me several hours to organize the trials.  What do you say to delivering your verdict tomorrow morning?”

   “I can agree to that.”

   “Do you take issue with the event being made public?”

   Filomena narrowed her eyes.  “ _How_ public?”

   “Your fellow prisoners, the paladins and the princess, and a few Blade of Marmora representatives.”

   “No, that should be fine.”  

   But Shiro could already tell she was lying.  It wasn’t fine.  Nothing was fine.  Her hands were balled into fists, shoulders tense and trembling with rage.

   The leader of the Blade of Marmora glanced at Shiro, who looked up at him.  The Galra leader’s face was drawn into its usual impassive frown, but Shiro thought he could see a hint of sadness behind that golden gaze.  Finally, Kolivan looked at Filomena again.  “Very well.  I will see you in the morning.  Thank you for a productive meeting, and for your generous sponsorship.”

   Miela made a gesture then that Shiro hadn’t seen in quite some time.  She stiffened slightly, hands braced at her sides, and bowed across the table toward Kolivan.

   When she and Pidge had gone, Kolivan looked at Shiro.  “What was _that_?” he asked.

   “It’s a… a very old gesture of respect,” the black paladin explained.  “It’s very common among people of one particular culture…”

   “Yours?”

   “Not mine in particular, but the one I’m descended from.  The deeper the bow, the more respect is portrayed.”  He scratched his head.  “She’s never bowed to me before.”

   Kolivan harrumphed gently.  “It may have been ingrained in her at a young age; to bow to her superiors, or to those who might pose a threat.”

   Allura’s eyes widened.  “You mean she’s _scared_ of you?”

   Kolivan glanced at the princess.  “Weren’t you?”  He looked back at Shiro without expecting an answer.  “But Filomena is a strong, stubborn woman.  She uses fear and anger to bolster herself in a confrontation, instead of allowing them to cripple her.”  He narrowed his eyes at the black paladin.  “That is a behavior you need to see moderated before she returns home.  Otherwise, those emotions will eat away at her, until you no longer recognize her for all her bitterness and resentment.”

   Shiro looked at the floor.  “I understand.  I… I’ll do what I can.”  

   But what could he do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, y'all! Thanks for reading!


	92. “Broken” - Seether, ft. Amy Lee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Filomena have their first lovers' tiff. Wonder who'll win?

   In spite of leaving the room mere minutes after Filomena, Shiro lost sight of her.  If what Kolivan said was right, he didn’t have much time.  He ran his right hand into his hair and tugged gently.  Come on, now, think.  Where could she be?

   Calm down.  I need to calm down.  Shiro looked at the floor and took a deep breath.  She’s angry.  She’s scared.  Where would she go?  He could feel himself stretching out, reaching for something beyond the length of his arms.  He closed his eyes and let it happen, letting his consciousness broaden with each breath.  Was this what she was talking about?

   He felt a zing, and torqued his head slightly.  Ah.  Hallways, still.  Crew quarters?  No.  She needed a _way out_.  A fight.

   He reached out and grabbed at the sensation, and then something happened.  She _shoved_ him away, hard enough to break his concentration and send him stumbling backward.

   Shiro blinked away the stars in his vision and heaved another breath.  The rush was fading, but he knew where she was headed.  The training deck.

   “Oh, you stubborn girl,” he breathed.  And he began running.  At this rate, he would almost certainly catch her before she reached the training deck, or at least before she started the gladiator.  His stamina was better than hers, and he was faster, if not more agile.

   And he was right.  He turned the final corner and saw her back slide into view.  She turned around when she heard him, but he was too close to outrun.  She stared up at him, puzzled.

   “How did you…?”  She stopped mid-question, and the light went on behind her eyes.  “That was you I felt just now?”

   “Uh huh.  Yep.”  He took her by the arm and tried to lead her away from the training deck.

   She resisted him, digging in her heels and pulling back on her arm.  “I’m busy, Takashi.”

   He tugged her harder, making her stumble forward.  “You’re not that busy.  We need to talk.  Now.”

   “What?  Why?”

   “ _Privately,_ ” Shiro insisted through gritted teeth.  He could already see where this was going, what this was leading to.  And if it was going to happen the way he had laid out in his mind, he had no intention of doing it out in the open, where anyone could see him lose it.  This was for _her_.

   He thought she would argue, but she just grumbled something and let him pull her along.  After another dobosh, she cut her eyes up at him.  “Will you please return my arm now?”

   He returned the look.  “Are you going to bolt if I do?”

   “It’s a possibility.”

   He scoffed and shook his head.  “You are ridiculous sometimes.”

   She tugged him backward, harder this time.  “Well, forgive me for being _upset_ ,” she snapped.  “ _Everyone_ has been hiding things from me, and I’m sick of it!”

   Shiro turned and looked down at her.  “I’m just doing my _job_ , Filomena.  You know this isn’t personal.”

   “It’s personal to _me_!” she retorted.

   Shiro stopped and turned toward her, right hand raised as if to keep her from saying more.  “All right, I get it.  You want a fight, and I'm perfectly willing to give you one.  But this time, it’s going to be on my terms, and I will _not_ argue with you _here_.”  He pointed decisively to the floor.  “Princess Allura has security cameras all over the castle, and we need this to be strictly between us.  I’m not going to involve my team in my personal affairs, and I would hope you can respect that.”  He finally released her arm.  “Let’s go someplace quiet.  Then, you can yell at me all you want, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

   She glared at him for another tick, and then crossed her arms.  “Fine.”

   She followed him to the quiet room, put on one of the headsets Pidge had customized for them, and at his gesture, preceded him into the room.  She waited until the door was shut, and for that, at least, he was grateful.

   “Why didn’t you tell me?”

   Shiro sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “Okay, which thing are we talking about?”

   She gave him an incredulous look.  “There’s _more_?”

   “Yes,” he said, as calmly as he could manage.  “There’s more.  More than I _ever_ wanted to know.  Certainly more than I wanted _you_ to know.”

   Miela threw up her hands.  “Why?  Why would you hide it from me?”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows.  “Because it’s painful, and telling you doesn’t change anything that happened.  Donovan is still dead, and Hayze was still wrong.”

   The woman balled her hands into fists.  “And so I get to be the _last_ person to know my friend was dying?”  She ran her clawed fingers into her hair and down the back of her skull.  “Don was like a father to me, and he was my _only_ link back to my home!  He didn’t tell me, and none of you bothered to tell me until today, over a _year_ after Hayze killed him…”  She stopped when she suddenly realized something.  “Matik abides by patient privilege… she never confirmed this for you.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “No.  I got my information from Hayze.”

   Filomena lifted her glasses off her nose and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.  “Is that why you didn’t tell me?  Because you thought it would _hurt_?”

   “No.  I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to just take his word as gospel.  I wanted to do some research, see what I could find out for myself.”  His expression became sympathetic.  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t trust him.  I still don’t.”  He sighed.  “But his story has been consistent over several tellings, and I was able to glean enough from Donovan’s personnel file to know that Hayze was being honest.”

   “He could have been honest with me!  With all of us!”

   “Who?  Donovan or Hayze?”

   “Either!  Both!”  She heaved a gasp and covered her mouth.

   Shiro raised his hands in a defeated shrug.  “What do you want me to do, Filomena?  I can’t turn back time.  I can’t go back and get Hayze to explain all the things he was doing…”

   She cut him off.  “Why did he do it?”

   “Wha-?  Why did he do what?”

   “He had a _reason_ , Shiro!”  For the first time, it stung to hear her say his name.  “He had a reason for _everything_!  I’m being told now that he killed my friend out of _mercy_.  If that’s true, then why?  Why did he r…”  She choked.  “He _raped_ me, Shiro.  There has to be a _reason_ …”

   “No, there doesn’t.”  He took two steps closer to her.  “People are _evil_ , Filomena.  You know that, almost as well as I do.  People don’t need reasons to do awful things.  Sometimes the action is just gratifying all by itself.”

   “No.”  She shook her head, sniffed, and wiped at her eyes again.  “Not him.  He had a reason, and you know it.”  She let out a sob, and then looked back up at him with an even more menacing glare.  “You know it, and you’re _hiding_ it from me!”

   “Why do you want to know this so much?” he asked.  “Even if I believed what he told me, do you think it changes anything?  It still hurts, and there’s no good reason for you to hurt any worse than you do.”

   “So you’re protecting my _ignorance_?” she snapped.  “You’re protecting that, because there’s no _innocence_ left to protect?”

   “Filomena…”

   “Why won’t you tell me?” she screamed.

   Shiro went quiet for a few ticks, long enough for Filomena to start crying in earnest.  “When you found out he was a slave, you lost track of who you were and what you were supposed to feel.  Am I right?”

   She nodded.

   “Do you really want to do that again?  Because that’s what’s going to happen.”

   Filomena was crying too hard to answer.

   Shiro sighed and ran his hand through his hair, and blinked back the pain that pulsed through his ribcage.  How could she say his name like that?  She was supposed to call him _Takashi_ ; she was the only one who was allowed to.  He propped both hands on his hips, and looked at the floor.  “I know you’re hurting right now, and before you snap at me again, I know… I don’t know exactly how much it hurts.”  He paused.  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.  I promised you that much.  But I’m letting you know here and now that… just the act of saying these words makes me hate myself, and it’s all because I can’t fix it, and I don’t have all the answers, and I’m hurting you just by opening my mouth.”

   The young woman choked back a sob and looked up at him.

   Shiro met her gaze once, and then looked away.  She wasn’t going to stop him.  “Raxxan was going to have you killed if Hayze didn’t find a way to subdue you.  I think he might have planned on telling you, but Donovan found out about his life expectancy soon after.  When you attacked Hayze, he gave up on his plan of trying to reason with you; he realized he had already antagonized you too much for you to want to listen to him.  So he… he tried something else.”

   “He… he wanted me alive?”  She wiped her face again.  “Are you saying he _cared_ about me?”

   For the first time, Shiro raised his voice louder than hers.  “Of _course_ not!  Wanting you to stay alive is not the same thing as _caring_ about you.  He was planning on _using_ you to work his way out from under Raxxan, trying to earn his freedom.”  Shiro sighed and rubbed his head.  It was starting to ache from all the tension in his forehead.  “There.  Now you know everything.  Why everyone around you is upset, why Donovan died, why Hayze… why he _raped_ you.  Does any of it really make a difference?”

   Filomena backed against the wall, eyes streaming hot tears.  She stood there and wept for a few ticks, and then, under her breath, Shiro heard the words he had dreaded hearing.  “He should have killed me.”

   Shiro marched across the room and slammed his hand into the metal panel beside her head.  Filomena squealed and gathered herself into a shaking little column against the wall as Shiro leaned in close and jabbed a finger up in front of her face.  “Don’t _ever_ say that again.”

   Her eyes were wide, red and full of pain.  He had frightened her.

   Shiro gritted his teeth against that realization, and went on.  “I hate what he did to you.  Just seeing you like this… I could rip him to shreds and never once feel remorse.  I wish he had found another way.  I wish he had been patient enough to talk to you, despite all the odds against him.  But I do not, for one minute, regret his decision to keep you alive.”  He raised himself to his full height and took a step back.  He decided not to mention Cesare at the moment; no need to point her resentment at her son.

   “Why?” she sobbed.  “Why can’t I just feel this way for _one second_?”

   “I never told you what to feel,” Shiro said, angling a glare down his nose at her.  “I understand you’re hurting right now.  But you don’t get to regret your entire life based on the lies someone else told you _last year_.  You have a future worth looking forward to, and if you stay focused on the awful things that happened in the past, you will never be able to enjoy it.”

   “Wh-why does it even matter?  You won’t _be_ there!  Why do you care?”

   “Because I _love_ you!”  Shiro realized too late that he had shouted it at her.  He grimaced and cursed under his breath.  Then he sighed and combed his hair out of his face.  “I…”  He looked at her, shook his head, and shrugged helplessly.  “I love you.”

   She just stared at him.

   After a few more ticks, Shiro heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead.

   While he studied the darkness behind his hand, he heard her small whisper from across the room.  “No.”

   Shiro dropped his hand from over his face, but his eyes were still closed.  He was getting tired.  “‘No’ what?”

   “You can’t.”

   He opened his eyes.  “Can’t wha-?”

   “You can’t be in love with me.”

   Shiro dropped his hand and folded it gently across his chest.  “I’m sorry,” he intoned, a little sarcastically.  “I don’t tell you how to feel.  You could at least afford me the same…”

   Her voice overlapped his.  “No, you can’t.  You _can’t_!”

   Shiro recognized the desperation in her voice.  She wasn’t telling him how to feel; this was _denial_.  He raised his voice again.  “ _Why_?”

   “ _Because I’m not worth it_!”

   Shiro set his mouth in a thin line and uncrossed his arms, and stepped in close again.  He grabbed the cuff of the glove on his left hand and ripped it off with a quick jerk.  He flung it somewhere off to his right, and raised his left hand in front of Miela’s face.  “Do you see this?” he asked.

   Filomena glanced quickly at his open palm.  The ring was still on his finger.  She nodded quickly.

   At her nod, Shiro reached up and pulled the ring off.  “You think I haven’t broken my share of hearts?” he asked, though the question was rhetorical.  “How many lives do you think I’ve ruined to get where I am?  How many people do you think I’ve _killed_?”  Filomena shook her head at him, and that was answer enough.  “I don’t go a single day without feeling the weight of that.  I was pretty sure my nightmares were a good indicator.  So if you want to play the scars game, I can assure you, I’ll win.  You don’t win by default by playing the sexual assault card.”  He held the ring up in front of her.  “You claimed _me_ , Filomena.  I am yours, and you are _mine_.  What we are worth and what we deserve no longer matters.”  Then his expression softened.  “All that matters now is what we _have_ together.”  He looked at the ring between his fingers.  “And… what we do with the rest of it.”

   She looked at his hand, at the silver ring pinched between his thumb and forefinger.  Slowly, she reached up and took it from him.

   Shiro let out a slow breath, waiting for her to say something, do something, even if it hurt.  Anything would be better than this silence.

   “Say it again,” she murmured.

   Shiro cocked one eyebrow, but waited for her to explain.

   Filomena wiped her face and held the ring out to him on her palm.  “You actually said it right.”  Her gaze met his.  “Say it again.”

   A small smile worked its way across Shiro’s face.  He knew what she meant.  He took the ring and put it back on his left hand, where it belonged.  “You are _mine_.”

   “Again.”

   He leaned in and kissed her forehead.  “You are _mine_.”

   “Again.”

   He kissed her cheek, tasted the remnants of her tears.  “You are _mine_.”

   “Again.”

   He reached to cup her cheek in his left hand.  “When are you going to believe me?” he asked softly.  He rubbed his thumb across the damp streak under her eye.

   “I never said I didn’t.”  She heaved a breath, and the sound that came out could have been a sob or laughter, though he couldn’t tell which.  “But… it makes me happy.”

   Shiro took her face between his hands and pulled her to him for a long kiss.  He would tell her as many times as it took, but right now, he needed this.  He needed to remember how she was supposed to feel: sweet and warm, with a faint, manageable bitterness, like wine.  The salt on her lips was unpalatable, but that would fade.  It would just take time.

   They left the quiet room soon after that.  They wandered the halls hand-in-hand, and for a while neither of them said a word.  Everything that needed to be said was out in the open now, and the silence was comfortable.

   But as they neared the crew quarters, Filomena seemed to notice something, and broke the silence.  “Takashi, are you all right?”

   Shiro looked at her and made a noise of question in his throat.

   “You’re trembling.”

   “I am?” he asked.  He released her hand and looked at his fingers.  “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t notice.”  He let out a short laugh on his breath, and closed his hand into a fist.  “I’m okay.  Just a little shaken up.”

   “Why?”

   He smiled sheepishly at her.  “You’re the first woman I’ve confessed to in… well, a long time.”

   She laughed under her breath and sidled closer, so that she could wind her arm into the small of his back.  “And here I thought you’d have more experience with the fairer sex.  They must have been falling all over you, back on Earth.”  She smiled up at him and raked her fingertips through his white hair.  “You’ve even got the impressive scars and the tragic history that just makes them weak at the knees.”

   Shiro chuckled at her.  “And you choose this moment to make fun of me.”

   “Just trying to make a point.”

   “Oh?  And what might that be?”

   She grinned and stood on her toes, raising her face to prepare for a kiss.  “I happen to be a very lucky woman.”

   He laughed shortly and gave her a chaste kiss.  “As a matter of fact, I didn’t have the tragic history or the scars before I left Earth.”

   “So much the better for me, then.”

   He pecked her mouth again.  “And I’ll have you know I’ve turned down my share of advances from _both_ sexes, thank you.”

   She opened her mouth in surprise.  “Well, look at you!  Ever the budding Casanova!”

   He rolled his eyes.  “I don’t have _that_ many notches in my bedpost, thank you.”

   She laughed at him.

   Shiro sighed.  “No, Filomena, I was a soldier on deployment.  The dating scene was a bit scarce, and even when I met someone, it was always complicated.”

   “Complicated like _this_?” she asked.

   He smirked.  “No.  This isn’t complicated.”  He nudged her forehead with his nose, let his right arm slide across her back.  “This is just you and me and the feelings between.”

   They held each other there for another moment, with Filomena’s head on his chest.

   “Takashi?” she said softly.

   He hummed at her.

   “Stay with me.”  She raised her face to look at him.

   Shiro didn’t seem surprised by the request, but he studied her for a couple ticks.  Was she sure?  Finally, he sighed and harrumphed.  “There’s nothing I’d like better,” he said.  “But I don’t think this is the right time.”

   “Oh?”

   He kissed her forehead.  “I don’t want this to be seen as me taking advantage of you.”

   She laughed under her breath.  “You’re one of a kind, Takashi.”

   “I hope so.  I wouldn’t wish for more of me.”

   Filomena laughed and squeezed his waist.  Then she stroked her hair behind her ear and glanced away.  “That’s a very gentlemanly thing to do, but… that wasn’t my reason for asking you to stay with me.”

   He picked up on the tiniest hint of fear in her expression.  “You’re scared.”

   “Yes.”

   Shiro smirked and turned her face up again with the tips of his fingers.  “Maybe we can compromise, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra chapter. Merry Christmas.


	93. “Rise” - Katy Perry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayze endures his judgement; Filomena faces her worst fears; everyone discovers something unthinkable about both of them.

   Shiro stayed with her until she slept.  She nodded off against his chest, and didn’t wake when he put her to bed.

   He was gone when she woke.

   Filomena sighed and rose.  It was early enough that she could have something for breakfast before meeting… well, whoever was coming to get her for Hayze’s judgement.  She hoped it would be Shiro, but reasoned that she wouldn’t be unhappy with _any_ company.

   She met Keith for coffee and an early snack.  “Too early for breakfast,” he reasoned.  “And if you eat too much, the stress might make you sick.”  He smirked at her.  “We’ll have Hunk make something for lunch.  I’m sure he’ll let you help.”

   “Where _is_ Hunk?” she asked finally.  “Last I saw him, he had Cesare with him…”

   “He still has him, far as I know,” said Keith.  “Coran changed his diaper, and then the kid curled right up to Hunk and fell asleep.”  He gave her a slightly exasperated look.  “We figured it’d be best not to wake him up, so Hunk took him last night.”

   Filomena smiled.  “I’ll thank him later.  I didn’t mean for any of you to keep him overnight.”

   Keith raised an eyebrow.  “If it wasn’t Hunk, it was going to be Shiro,” he said.  “He offered, but everyone kind of tiptoes around now when we know the baby’s asleep.”

   She chuckled.  “Welcome to parenthood.”

   “I’m _way_ too young for that.”  He smiled and rolled his eyes.

   Filomena laughed quietly.  When the quiet finally fell over them again, she put her chin in her hand and studied her cup of coffee.  “I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to wear to this thing,” she said.

   “I’m no expert on fashion,” said Keith.  “If you were going for armor, I might be able to help you with that.”

   She considered him a moment.  “Well, I’m meeting my enemy, so… would that require armor?”

   He thought for a moment.  “He’s going to be shackled, unarmed, and surrounded by armed guards, myself included.”  He touched his chest to indicate himself.  “You don’t need body armor.”  He watched her for a moment more, and then hummed.  “What you need is psychological armor.”

   Filomena folded her arms.  “I know how to do that in theory, but in practice it’s a lot harder.  It takes a lot of willpower to stand up to psychological assaults.”

   Surprisingly, Keith followed her line of thought with ease.  “Then you need to wear something that represents the presence you want to exude.  That might help bolster your barriers.”

   She looked at the table in thought.  Then she recalled something Keith had said the day before.  “A _battle dress_ ,” she murmured.

   “Exactly.”

   She harrumphed and smirked at him.  “Well, Keith, you might get to see it after all.”

   They parted ways after that, to prepare for the meeting ahead.  Filomena bathed and got dressed, put on her makeup and styled her hair the way Shiro had suggested; partway down, with only a small section pinned up above her ear.

   She was glad, when Allura arrived, that the princess was wearing her formal gown, and had her white hair billowing down her back.  “Oh, good!” Allura breathed as Filomena answered her knock.  “I was worried I might have overdressed.”

   “The thought occurred to me, too,” said Filomena.  She looked over her shoulder at her freestanding mirror and touched the scar at the base of her neck.  “I still wonder if there isn’t a way to hide this thing, though.”

   The princess watched her for a moment, and then her expression relaxed.  “How about a pin, then?” she asked.  “I have one that might hide that scar.”  She revealed her left hand from behind her back, producing a magnificent white flower pin.  “These flowers used to grow on my home planet.  Juniberries.  The flowers themselves were pink, but I really liked this pin.”

   Filomena looked at the pin, and then slowly took it from Allura.  “It reminds me of a day-lily, a bit,” she said.  “Those come in many colors, though.”  She pinned the flower to the front of her dress, so that it rose above her neckline to hide part of her scar.  “This is beautiful.  Thank you.”

   “It’s my pleasure, Filomena, and a greater pleasure to know you.”  She held out her hand to the woman.  “Shall we?”

   Filomena sighed deeply.  “One moment.  Let me step into character.”  She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, her face was intense, chest out, shoulders back.  

   Even standing right next to her friend, Allura couldn’t help but feel significantly smaller.  “My goodness, that’s frightening!” she said with a nervous laugh.

   Filomena broke character with a laugh.  “You’re going to make me mess up!”

   Allura laughed.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll try to keep a straight face.”

   The woman’s smile faded.  “A few minutes more, and I don’t think you’ll have to _try_.”

   The princess sighed.  “I know.”  She clasped her friend’s hand.  “Let’s put our faces on, then.  And whatever happens, don’t let him know you’re afraid.”

   The auburn-haired woman stepped back into character with a single breath.  As they left her quarters, she said something, so softly it was almost lost.  “May I tell you a secret?”

   Allura glanced over at her.  “I love secrets.”  The words were appropriate, but Allura couldn’t help the slight flatness of how they came out.

   “I’m always afraid.”

   She had never let on.  Allura gave her a surprised look, and then it faded into a sad smile.

   On their way to the ballroom, a large, shadowy mass stepped out from behind a corner and startled them.  His blade was drawn, and his stance defensive.  Allura gasped and stepped sideways, closer to Miela, but the brunette just shifted away slightly.  As the woman looked up at the masked Galra half-breed, the taller figure made a small sound and stepped backward.

   They stared at each other for a moment before Allura came back to herself.  “Antok!  What do you think you’re doing with your blade drawn?”

   Antok finally stowed his blade and stood upright.  “Apologies, Princess.”  He looked down at the brunette through his mask.  “You felt… dangerous.”

   Filomena cocked an eyebrow at him.  “That was the idea,” she said.

   “I was not aware humans could do that.”

   Filomena continued walking.  “What you are sensing is almost entirely a defense mechanism,” she said.  “Hayze trained me to fight like a Galra, and I bested the black paladin in close combat.”  She glanced up at the large figure as he fell into step beside her.  “Make no mistake, I _am_ dangerous, Antok.  What you are referring to is ‘menace’, and that is not something I typically display.”

   Antok harrumphed and flicked his tail.  “Is today a special occasion?” he asked, a little curtly.

   “I should think so.”  A tight smile crossed her lips.  “Although, at this point, I doubt Hayze needs another reason to be afraid of me.”

   Allura glanced at her.  “I know he didn’t say so in the video, but… he always has been.”

   “I know.”  She took a deep breath.  “I know what I am going to do.  I may need you to help me, but whatever happens, do not stop me.”

   Allura nodded.  “I won’t."

   At that same time, Keith met the other paladins in the cell block to get Hayze.  They opened the door and found him sitting in the same spot, arms propped on his knees, patiently awaiting his judgement.  He looked up as Keith and Shiro stepped inside.

   Shiro was the first to speak.  “Hayze, it’s time.”

   The alien sighed.  “I know.”  He slowly got to his feet, but it took him a moment to find his balance.

   Though he hadn’t meant to, Keith stepped in and grabbed one of his arms, keeping him from falling over.  Hayze caught himself then, and the red paladin felt a tremor run down the larger being’s arm.  “You’re… you’re shaking!” Keith exclaimed softly.

   Hayze looked at him, and then gently pulled his arm away.  “Wouldn’t you be?”  He let Pidge handcuff him, and then the paladins escorted him from the room.

   He didn’t try to run, never tried to fight, but he had to stop and catch his breath once before they arrived in the ballroom.  Hunk chalked it up to nerves and hyperventilation, and dutifully helped Hayze calm down.

   When they were almost at the ballroom, Hayze posed a question to the group.  “Is my fate already known to you?”

   Shiro glanced at him.  “Some of us.”

   “Not all of you?”

   Pidge answered.  “Only a couple of us were privy to the process, and that was only because we had pertinent information regarding your judgement.”

   “I see.”

   Hayze entered the ballroom on his own steam, and was surprised to see so many people.  Most of the former slaves with which he had come aboard were there, as were the masked figures of the Blade of Marmora.  The warm chatter fell away as everyone realized he had entered.  There were no jeers.  Nothing was thrown at him.  Just deafening silence.  This was not how he had expected it to be; in truth, he had had a much more violent end in mind.

   “Hayze,” said a low, mature voice.

   He looked up at an older Galra male who wore the cowl of the Blade of Marmora, who stood on the landing between the two floors.  Hayze’s eyes widened.  A Galra.  One of his own kind.  Hayze caught himself.  This man was not his ally.  There was no room for hope here.  “Are you to be my advocate?” he asked.

   “No,” Kolivan said.  “Your actions have already been weighed.  The trial of your peers has already taken place.”  He clasped his hands behind his back.  “Your cooperation, along with the security footage of your stay here and the data from your collar, has allowed us to ascertain the truth.  You are merely here to be judged.  Do you understand?”

   “Yes.”

   “Very well.”  He turned and aimed a look up the stairs.  “May I present your judge.”

   Hayze shifted his gaze up the staircase, and froze.  Three of the paladins behind him let out sounds of shock.

   “Oh là là!”

   “That… is a _dress_.”

   “A _battle dress_ …”

   Filomena stood at the top of the steps with Princess Allura, clad in a white gown, her long auburn tresses smooth and straight against her back, save for a single section that was pinned above her ear with a bejeweled comb.  Her back was straight, her features flawless, and her chin was raised.  But the most terrible part of it all was that her face had no expression.  There was no hatred, no pity.  She was cold and silent and beautiful in the way that he had thought only the stars could be.

   Hayze dropped to one knee so fast he almost toppled over, and had to catch himself.

   Keith regained his attention and looked down.  “Hayze!” he hissed.  He reached down and took the Galra trainer by the arm.

   Hayze forcefully shook him off.  “Leave me!” he growled, head still bowed.  “Don’t you know what you’re looking at?”

   Keith looked up as Filomena began descending the stairs.  “It’s… it’s Filomena.  My friend.  My ally.”

   Hayze shook his head.  “No, boy.  That is a _nova_.”

   Shiro glanced down at him.  “What do you mean, a nova?”

   Pidge supplied him with an answer.  “In extremely short terms, it’s the death of a star.”  She looked up as Filomena took Kolivan’s proffered arm, and he led her down the remaining steps.  “From what I’ve read, it’s the closest thing the Galra have to a deity.  We might call it an angel of death, but it’s really more like an Ouroboros.  It’s the end, but it’s also the beginning of something new.  It’s…”  She stopped.

   Shiro looked at Hayze.  “It’s a bright future,” Shiro finished for her.  He looked up as Kolivan led the woman up to them.  

   She released the older Galra’s arm, and she gave him a grateful nod before turning and recognizing each of the paladins with a similar slight bow of the head.  But when she got to Shiro, she broke character.  Her expression became slightly worried, her smile uneasy.  “I hope you will not fault me for what I am about to do,” she said softly.

   Shiro relaxed a little.  They had already discussed Hayze’s fate, so she wasn’t planning on hurting him.  He smiled at her.  “How could I?” he asked softly.

   She still looked concerned, but she turned her gaze down at the prisoner below her.  “I’m breaking my promise,” she replied.  And then her expression went slack again.

   The black paladin’s smile broke, but he said nothing.  He didn’t much like it, but Hayze had earned this punishment, as much as any other.

   Filomena studied Hayze for a moment.  Even genuflected, he was tall.  She cocked her head.  Every lithe thing about him screamed movement, agility, strength; he was so still, for once.

   Hayze stared at the floor.  He could see only the hem of her dress, and the sparkle of a pair of formal shoes as she stepped in close.  His breath hitched in anticipation.

   “Look at me.”  Her voice was soft and calm, too calm to be genuine, but compelling all the same.

   Hayze raised his head, but found he didn’t have the courage to look her in the eye.

   “Won’t you look at me?”  That was a command.  Unspoken, but the phrase had the slow sizzle of a threat.

   Hayze flicked his eyes up at hers briefly before losing his courage and glancing down again.  His chin bumped something, and he gasped and pulled back; it was her hand.  His mind reeled: he hadn’t struck her on purpose!  Then he suddenly realized that she had _raised_ her hand to meet his face.  Would she slap him?  Grab hold of his hair and pull?  Would she throw him to the ground as he had done?

   But her small, pale fingers curved gently around his jawbone.  Her hands were _warm_.  He had thought they would be cold and hard by now, after all the years he had spent trying to mold them into fists.  Perhaps that’s what started to confuse him; she had every right to hurt him however she pleased, and yet… maybe what he had said was right after all; that she wasn’t a monster like him.

   She lifted his chin, and finally he met her gaze and held it.

   Her gaze was unfaltering, unafraid, but also not angry.  That was the second confusing thing.  She studied his eyes for a few ticks, and it soon made him wonder what she was looking for.  Her courage?  His?  Or maybe she was just looking for the one tiny crack in the barriers he had built up over the past fifteen years.

   Finally, she took a breath.  “I spent a very long time being angry at you,” she said.  “And for a while, I thought it was just your hate.  Hate for me, hate for Donovan… and disdain for every sapient creature you came into contact with.”  She shook her head.  “But I’m starting to realize I was wrong.  You were selfish and desperate, and I understand why.  I don’t like it, and I can’t forgive you yet, but I do understand.”  She took another breath.  

   “So today, I’ve been given the task of punishing you for all the things you’ve done.  I thought I would enjoy it, but… you were right.  I don’t.”  She broke his gaze and allowed her hand to drop back to her side.  “I was angry at you for _being right_ , too,” she said with a humorless laugh.  “And it was all because I thought you didn’t care enough to know anything about me.  Now I realize… you were the one who knew all the important things about us.  You knew Don’s daughter’s name.  Her birthday.  Her favorite color.  You knew my friend’s heart, and I was upset because… because _I didn’t_.  I was a human, his only connection to our planet, and I didn’t know him like you did.”  She looked at him again, and was pleased to find that he was still watching her.  “But I think I was right to resent you- _both_ of you- for hiding Don’s illness.  I resented that neither of you had courage to tell me the truth before he asked you to end his life.  I was angry at him for leaving me alone, and at you for taking him from me, and I’ve only just come to terms with the fact that he was never ours to keep.”  She breathed a deep sigh, intent on keeping her emotions tightly under control, and clenched her hands into fists before releasing them again.

   “That being said, I can not allow your crimes to go unpunished.”  She gestured at Kolivan, and Hayze flicked his eyes up at the older Galra.  “You will be remanded into custody of the Blade of Marmora, and will undergo their trials.  If you survive, you will be free.  If you don’t… you will be free.”  She looked down at him again, and Hayze returned his gaze to her.

   She should be in tears by now; just a mess of white fabric and trembling flesh on the floor.  But she was calm, composed, resigned…  Hayze studied her in return.  He could feel her overpowering presence all around him, snug against his skin, making his chest ache. Was she trying to crush him?  “You are… only punishing me for Donovan’s death?” he asked breathlessly.

   She cocked her head slightly.  “No.”  She turned and looked over her right shoulder at Princess Allura.  The princess nodded, as if to signal her readiness, and then Filomena turned to stare down at Hayze again.  “But my own vendetta was not one the Blade of Marmora could provide.”  She reached toward him again, and this time Hayze didn’t move when she touched him.  She tugged gently on his jaw.  “I won’t bend to meet you,” she insisted.

   Hayze understood, and raised himself up several inches, until he was almost at eye level with her.

   “It won’t hurt,” she said.  “Not in the way you want it to.”

   Hayze lowered his gaze slightly.  “Do what you will.”

   But what she did then surprised him and everyone else in the room.  She bent into him so that they were face to face, her bright green eyes watching his intently.  What was she trying to do?  If she was trying to make him uncomfortable, then she was succeeding.  But no.  The pressure around him was tightening.  He could feel her breath against his mouth, smell the floral scent of her lip gloss, and when her nose brushed his, his breath caught, and a tremor rushed down his back.  He wanted to run.  He wanted to collapse.  He wanted to _kiss_ her, to want someone freely and to be wanted.  And then he wished it; he wished their lives had been different.

   The tension in the young Galra’s body shifted slightly.  Filomena read the signs perfectly, raised herself just a hair, and planted a single soft kiss on Hayze’s high cheekbone, just below his eye.

   Keith leaned over and whispered to Pidge.  “What is she doing?”

   The girl looked sad.  “She’s _breaking_ him,” she said.  “Hayze’s reality is different from ours.  I’m not sure you knew this, but he’s been a slave for fifteen years.  He can withstand some pretty intense torture, and he’s built up lots of walls to protect his psyche.”  She looked at Shiro.  “But the _kind_ of torture he’s used to is what matters.  He can stand up to broken bones, bruises, cuts, burns… but what happens when you show _affection_ to someone like that?”

   The black paladin understood.  “So she’s figured out his weak point.”

   “Yes,” Pidge replied.  “What I haven’t quite understood is what she’s going to do with it.”

   “I’m not sure you want to know,” Shiro murmured.

   Hayze’s eyes went wide for just a moment after the woman kissed his cheek, and then he felt the walls around his heart come crashing down.  The heavy atmosphere around him crushed the remaining fragile barriers like a bottle under pressure, and he felt her come rushing in, filling him like an ocean in a sinking ship.  And just like that, his eyes closed, and his head fell to rest between her palms, against her forehead.

   Shiro felt the presence lift, and he made a sound in his throat.

   Allura looked up at him.  “You felt it too?” she asked quietly.

   The black paladin flicked his eyes at the princess, and then back to his lover.  “It’s like she just _vanished_ ,” he murmured in awe.  “I can see her _right there_ , and at the same time… she’s not here anymore.”

   Allura raised her eyebrows and looked over at Filomena.  “You’re right,” she said.  “Could it be… she’s _inside_ his mind?”

   Shiro didn’t answer.  He already knew it was true, and that strong pang of jealousy bit into him.  She had been inside his mind once before; maybe twice, but he wasn’t sure; and his general consensus had been that she was gentle.  She didn’t touch things needlessly.  But _quiznak_ , he wanted it to be _him_ ; he wanted to be the one under her hands, with her inside his mind, inside his heart… or vice-versa.

   Filomena’s face twisted slightly, and she let out a shuddering breath.  “Allura,” she said softly.

   “Do you need help?” the princess asked.

   “Yes,” she whispered.  “It’s… messy.”  She blinked away moisture in her eyes.  “Painful.  Takes more… more than I have.”

   Allura closed the three steps between them, and then placed her hand on Filomena’s shoulder.  She closed her eyes, and let the transfer begin.  The castle responded to the princess’ energy, making the ballroom glow a pale turquoise.

   Not five ticks later, the cuffs of Hayze’s shackles began to brighten, their bluish-green energy pulsing along with his heart rate.  Soon, they were too bright to look at directly, and the paladins were shielding their eyes.

   There was a cracking sound, like glass, and then a higher-pitched shatter.  A wave of _something_ from the center of the group pushed everyone backward.  Filomena and Allura were knocked off their feet and thrown down in a heap.

   As soon as the light faded, Shiro cried out for Filomena, and he and Keith ran to pick the women up off the floor.  Allura didn’t seem to need much help getting up, but Miela had more trouble; her knees were weak, and her face was paler than before.

   “Are you all right?” the black paladin asked.

   “N-no.  I don’t think so.”

   Shiro pulled her to her feet and supported her on his left arm.  “We’re almost done.  You can rest afterward.”

   Hayze opened his eyes and looked down at his hands.  Free.  His wrists were unbound.  “What have you done?” he whispered.  He looked up at Filomena, studied her for two ticks, and then said it again, louder.  “What have you _done_?”  He launched himself toward her, but Lance and Hunk caught both his arms and pulled him to a halt.

   It was Allura who answered.  “She severed your _anchor_ ,” she said.

   “What anchor?” Hayze spat.  “If there’s _one_ among you who has no anchor, it’s me!”

   “No,” said Filomena, raising her head off Shiro’s breastplate.  “You had an anchor; the worst kind.”  She looked at him; it took effort, and he could tell now.  “For fifteen years- _half your life_ \- you’ve been anchored to _Raxxan_.”  She took a deep breath.  “Did you never wonder why you could never leave?  He gave you all kinds of liberties; an education, a weapon, and the ability to wander freely.  You could have left.  You could have left, and you didn’t have to care if we lived or died.”  She struggled to her feet, and tottered away from Shiro.  “It was your sense of duty; an attachment you could never find a reason for.  You found a place to belong, no matter how heartless, and you clung to it the way I clung to Donovan.”  She took a step toward him.  “And now, you and I… we are adrift.  This was my reality.  How does it feel?  How… does it fe-?”  Her eyes rolled upward, and her knees gave out.

   Hayze watched her crumple, and gave a forward tug at his captors’ grip.  “Filomena!” he cried.

   Kolivan reached out and caught the woman before she hit the floor.  She sagged against his lanky arm.

   Everyone stared at Hayze for a moment, confused as to why he would cry out like that.  Then Shiro pushed the thought aside and stepped closer to Kolivan.

   The older Galra held the woman’s body out to him.  “She’s overspent her energy reserves,” he said.  “You should remove her before she does herself harm.”

   Shiro lifted Filomena into his arms.  “All right.  Can you and Princess Allura finish up here?”

   “We are finished.”  As Shiro carried Filomena out of the ballroom, Kolivan pointed a stern look at Hayze.  “You had no right to call her name like that,” he scolded.  “Not unless you’ve been hiding a lot more than you’ve led us to believe.”  

   Hayze looked away in response.  

   “The trials were a good choice,” Kolivan mused.  “Well-planned and educated.  She could have been less merciful.”

   “I was not interested in her mercy,” Hayze said sharply.

   The leader of the Blade of Marmora raised one eyebrow.  “Perhaps you should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pic here! To be honest, I still haven't figured out what contrast would work best in Hayze's facial markings, but hey, it's line art. I'm gonna leave it at that, and if y'all want to color it, be my guests.
> 
>  
> 
> [Breaking Point ](https://hotaruno.deviantart.com/art/Breaking-Point-723026905?ga_submit_new=10%3A1514754143)


	94. “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye” - Ella Fitzgerald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filomena explains her actions to Shiro, Allura gives the team a brief lecture about what they just witnessed, and Keith is really, REALLY bad at feelings.

   Shiro carried Filomena back toward her room.  The cryo-pods were still full, but that was all right; she just needed a long nap, and she’d be fine… wouldn’t she?

   “Am I making you carry me again?”

   Shiro looked down at her.  Her eyes were open, but tired.  He smirked.  “I guess you could say that.”

   “I’m sorry.”

   “Don’t be.”  His smile faded.  “The judgement couldn’t have gone more smoothly.  I’m just sorry you spent all your energy on _him_.”

   She harrumphed.  “Are you jealous, Takashi?” she asked wryly.

   He raised one eyebrow.  “I’d be a fool not to be, wouldn’t I?”

   Filomena hummed.  “Five years ago, I’d have said yes.  But not now.”

   “Oh?  Why is that?”

   She chuckled at him.  “Because I claimed _you_ , not him.”  She sighed.  “I’ll admit, I spent more energy on him than I intended.  He fought me pretty hard.”

   “You’re taking this too lightly,” Shiro growled.  He set her down, but allowed her to lean on him for support.  “You entered his mind space and altered something about him, and I didn’t say anything back there because he gave you verbal permission.”

   “So?” she asked.  “What has that to do with you?”

   The question wasn’t meant to raise his hackles, but it did.  Then he thought for a moment about it, and he slowly let his defenses down again.  “He didn’t deserve that,” he finally murmured.  “You helped him cope with a tremendous hurdle, and that might tip the scales when it comes to the trials.”

   “Oh, I never helped him cope with anything,” she corrected him with a shake of her head.  “What I did was the equivalent of burning his house to the ground.  I left him with a… a _profound_ sense of loss and displacement.  That was part of his punishment.”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows.  “I suppose I feel a little better, then.”  He wrapped his arm around her.  “I’m sorry it took such a toll on you, though.”

   She sighed.  “Believe me, no one is sorrier than me.”  She looked up at him.  “What time is it?”

   “Probably still pretty close to breakfast.  You hungry?”

   “If the fainting is any clue, then I’m probably going to get that way soon.”

   “Didn’t you eat this morning?”

   She shook her head.  “Just coffee and a snack with Keith.  He warned me against eating too much.”

   Shiro squeezed her.  “Well, how about we fix that?  And after breakfast, you can take a nap with Cesare.”

   She raised her arms up over his shoulders.  “That sounds divine.”

   Hunk tackle-hugged her the moment they made it into the dining room, picked her up and spun her around before setting her on the floor again.  Filomena squealed and laughed, and put effort into greeting each of the paladins with an eager smile.  She wasn’t faking, Shiro knew, but she was fading fast, and he could feel it.

   There was something else he could feel, too; something nagging about what Filomena had said earlier.  Hayze had been psychologically attached to Raxxan for years, bound to him out of sheer self-hatred.  Could it be possible that his lover shared a similar connection with the man who raped her?  The thought made him ache inside.  There had to be some way he could help her; something he could do before she left, and he lost his chance forever.

   He let her return to her room by herself, with Cesare in her arms, and sat among his fellow paladins after breakfast.

   When the silence became too much to bear, Allura sighed and stood up from her seat at the table.  “I’m sorry you all had to witness that,” she said, her voice soft and clear.  “You most of all, Shiro.  I know you are close to her.”

   Everyone looked at the table, but among them the gestures were different.  Pidge  picked nervously at her fingernails.  Lance rubbed the back of his head in sheepish embarrassment.  Hunk tapped the tips of his fingers together.  Keith folded his arms defensively, fingernails digging into the sleeves of his jacket.  They all liked her.  Quiznak, they all loved her.  

   Shiro took in each of his teammates’ reactions with quiet reserve, and then folded his hands helplessly on the table.  He couldn’t control her.  He couldn’t control what she felt, or for whom.  Doing that would mean negating all the things he loved about her.

   Allura sighed and followed the direction of everyone else’s gaze.  “You know by now what Filomena and I are capable of; something each of us has the capacity to do.  We build each other’s walls, break them down; we encourage strength, empathize with the victims inside us, and inflict the gravest of wounds.”  She looked up.  “What she did today was one of the most terrifying things I have ever witnessed.  She faced not only her greatest enemy, but her greatest fear.”  The princess lowered her chin slightly and gave her team an intense frown.  “If any one of you has a problem with the method with which she accomplished that, then I suggest you take a good, long look at yourselves, so you can see all the ways she has affected you.”

   Keith looked up.  “What did you see?” he asked.  The table was quiet for a moment, and he looked around.  “I think we might understand better if we knew what it was you saw.”

   Allura looked at him.  “There’s no way for me to explain the inside of another person’s mind, Keith,” she said softly.  “Neither Hayze nor Filomena are simple people; their emotions are complex and overwhelming when viewed firsthand.  To desire an understanding like that…”  She looked away.  “You’re asking too much of me, Keith.”

   Keith looked surprised, and then ashamed.  “I’m sorry, Allura.”

   She gave him a small smile.  “It’s all right.  I know why you asked.”  She looked down the table again.  “I almost… no.  I truly hate to say it; it’s time to start sending the prisoners home.”

   Pidge looked up.  “How many more need the cryo-pods?” she asked.  “What was the last count?”

   “Four,” said Hunk.  “And the rest of them are getting a little restless.”

   Lance folded his arms.  “Of course they are,” he said.  “Hayze’s judgement is complete.  They’re all ready for the nightmare to be over.”

   Shiro finally looked up at her from across the table.  “How long will it take to send them all home?”

   Allura looked at the table.  “Probably vargas, not quintants.”  She sighed.  “I’ll see how long I can feasibly drag it out, but I’m working on borrowed time.  The pods seat ten passengers, and we have sixty-three prisoners, not including the baby.  I’ll see how closely I can arrange them by solar system, and that’ll at least look like I’m trying to be efficient.  We can get started as soon as those last four pods are empty, and their occupants fed.”  She stood up.  “Say your goodbyes.  At the very latest, our guests will be leaving within the next couple quintants.”

   The castle was too quiet after that.  The younger paladins couldn’t even manage their somewhat cathartic bickering.  There was nothing playful left in them.

   When Keith left the dining room, he wanted nothing more than to hit something; something preferably inanimate, since none of his teammates warranted a good punch in the face.  Even Lance was tolerable at the moment.

   Maybe it was the short trip in the elevator to the training deck, but his desire to fight was gone by the time he got to his destination.  He stood in the middle of the room, staring at the ceiling and wondering what to do with all the useless anger and the sudden anxiety, both of which were making his ribs hurt again.  He rubbed his chest and sighed.

   “Keith?”

   The red paladin turned around at the sound of Hunk’s voice.  “Yeah?”

   Hunk studied him for a moment, and then his face bent to match Keith’s.  “You don’t look so good.”

   Keith harrumphed.  “Is it that obvious?” he asked.  He looked up again, at the port from which the gladiator entered during their training sessions.  “I’m not good at this,” the shorter boy mumbled.  “I thought it made life easier if… if I only ever felt one thing.”  He looked down at the hand that rested over his right side.  “Why… why does it have to hurt?”

   Hunk looked at the floor.  “Because if it didn’t, we’d never know what it really felt like to be happy,” he answered thoughtfully.

   Keith’s mouth turned up at the corners.  “I guess I didn’t know what it felt like, before.”  He sighed and looked up at Hunk.  “Do you think that’s weird?”

   Hunk rubbed the back of his head.  “Maybe a little.  But I didn’t grow up like you did.  Having someone like Miela burst into your life like that must be pretty off-putting.”  The two of them were silent for a few ticks, and then Hunk furrowed his brow.  “You really like her, don’t you?”

   “Yeah.”  His voice was soft and matter-of-fact.

   Hunk pushed him.  “No, I mean, you _really_ like her.”

   Keith looked at him with a defensive frown.  “Yeah.  Everybody does.  And?”

   Hunk folded his arms.  “And is that _all_?  Or is there something I should be worried about?”

   “Why would _you_ worry about what _I_ feel?”

   The yellow paladin raised one eyebrow.  “Because you go kind of feral when you’re upset.  You push everyone away, say things you regret, and lash out at people who don’t deserve it.”

   Keith looked momentarily surprised by Hunk’s candor, and then he bared his teeth in a ferocious growl.  “You have no idea what I’m feeling,” the red paladin snapped.  “I hate when Shiro reads me, so don’t expect me to like it when _you_ do it.”

   Hunk’s face relaxed into a more sympathetic expression.  “Then just tell me the truth, Keith.”

   The red paladin felt himself falling apart, and snapped at Hunk again to try to hold it all together.  Anger was an emotion he knew: best stick to it.  “Why?  Why do you even bother?  You can’t fix it!”

   “I need to know what it is that needs fixing, first.  You really expect me to just stand here and watch you do this to yourself?”

   Keith broke.  He spun, arms flung wide, his stance broad and challenging as he faced the yellow paladin.  “I’m _protecting_ myself!  _She’s_ the one who came on board, buttered us all up, made us _love her,_ and now she’s _leaving_ , just like _everyone else_!”  He stopped and heaved a breath.  “ _Everyone_ leaves.  Everyone… anyone I care about…  They always leave.”

   Hunk’s face took on a flat expression.  “Like your _mom_?” he asked, point blank.

   Keith inhaled sharply as if he was suddenly surprised by this revelation.  A moment later, he moved his hand to cover his eyes.  His mother, his father… Shiro…  Keith could still feel the chains those absences had left behind, binding him to an empty past.  Filomena was just one more.

   A big hand pulled him in and hugged him tightly, and Keith let go.  The tremble in his shoulders came out in a small, desperate sound, and that was all he could do.

   “You got attached to her,” Hunk said softly.  It was an acknowledgement, not a judgement.  He patted Keith’s back.  “Does she know about this?”

   Keith sighed, wiped his face, and looked at the floor.  “I’ve already told her.  And… Shiro knows.”

   “They don’t seem worried.”

   “They shouldn’t be,” Keith said.  “I’m not going to jeopardize my friendship with either of them for something…”  He decided not to call it what it was.  “Something stupid like this.”

   “It’s not stupid,” Hunk said soothingly.  “We all have people we admire.”

   “It’s not just that,” Keith said, shaking his head.  “The things she told me… that my mom… that my mother _loved me_ …  And-and then she kissed my forehead, just like my mom should’ve done…”  He took a shaky breath.  He could feel his chest tightening, making his voice tremble and his ribs ache.  “I didn’t want to do anything… I don’t want her like that…  I just… I want her to stay.  I just wanted her to stay.”  He hid his face in Hunk’s shoulder.

   Hunk rubbed the space between his shoulder blades.  “Easy, easy!  Calm down, or you’ll make _me_ cry!”

   Keith heaved a laugh, and then rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “What am I going to do?”

   “You don’t have to _do_ anything,” Hunk said.  “Things like this just take time.  Either you’ll forget, or the feeling will become something else.”

   Keith looked up at him.  “Did this happen to you with Shay?”

   A look of surprise accompanied the blush that spread across Hunk’s face.  Then he looked away and grinned sheepishly.  “Yeah, I guess,” he said.  “I mean, I do admire her, but we haven’t spent enough time together for any other kinds of feelings to develop.”  His smile faded a little.  “Miela’s been aboard for almost two and a half weeks.  We’ve gotten to know her really quickly.  It’s kind of to be expected.”  He lifted a big hand and let it fall reassuringly on Keith’s shoulder.  “But really, it’s good to know you care about their friendship.  That’s the most important thing.”

   Keith thought for a moment more, and then looked at the floor.  “You think… You think she’d let me dance with her one more time?”

   “Probably.  And hey, that’s a really good idea, too!  After all, that’s something we’ll all remember her for.”

   “Yeah…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need a picture for this chapter and do not have one. Oops.


	95. “The Dance” - Garth Brooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith says goodbye in his own way

   The party the following night was mostly Hunk’s idea.  He didn’t decorate, but he certainly catered.  For Keith, though, the most important part was the music.  He and Pidge rigged up playlist after playlist, always music they could dance to, and tried their hardest to make this a memorable evening.

   Keith didn’t have any formal clothes to speak of, so he wore his armor.  He was the only one.  Even Shiro dressed in his casual blacks.  But the red paladin felt like he needed something more; a sort of visual representation of the respect he held for their parting guest.  And no one said anything to him about his choice of attire; they gave him a few funny looks, but once they all realized he was staying for the party, they seemed to let go of the thought.

   “Are you all right?”

   Keith looked over his shoulder at the Princess, who came up to him with a cup in each hand.  She handed him one, and he looked down into the cup, studying the pink liquid dubiously.

   “Don’t worry,” she chuckled.  “Hunk made it.”

   Keith shrugged and lifted the cup to his mouth.  The drink was sweet and fruity, with a hint of carbonation.  He hummed his approval and looked back up at the people around him.  “I’m okay,” he said.  “Well, better than I was, at least.”

   Allura watched him carefully for a few moments longer, and then looked at the floor.  “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

   Keith shook his head and smiled.  “No.  I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do.”  He laughed humorlessly.  “I know it’s childish, but there’s a part of me that thought we could just keep going like this.”

   Allura smirked.  “I know what you mean.”  She looked across the throng of aliens at Miela, who was wearing one of her new party frocks and talking to one of her friends.  “It’s almost as if she has become part of the family.”

   The red paladin hummed again.  “Maybe that’s it,” he said.  “I thought it would take me longer.  I mean, I’m not the most trusting guy.”

   She cut her eyes up at him and harrumphed.  “To say the least.”  She returned her gaze to the brunette across the room and sighed.  “For awhile, I was afraid she might’ve had an adverse affect on your judgement.”

   Keith rolled his eyes.  “It wasn’t that keen to begin with,” he mumbled.

   Allura laughed quietly.  “Well,” she said, “it seems I was wrong, anyway.  She’s turned out to be a fitting piece to our team, if an oddly-shaped one.”

   Keith considered the woman across the room for a moment before turning and looking down at the princess.  “Like a mom, kind of,” he mused.  Then he laughed at the appropriateness of the thought.

   Allura smiled.  “Yes, exactly!”  She hummed and set her cup down on a hovering tray behind her.  “It seems we all have needed a mother’s touch recently.  We just didn’t know it.”

   The red paladin’s smile faded, and he looked at the floor.  “What’s going to happen when she’s gone?” he asked, though he really didn’t expect an answer.  “Are we going to go back to being… lost children?”

   Allura folded her hands in front of her.  “We _are_ lost children, Keith,” she said, though her smile didn’t fade.  “That didn’t change because Filomena came into our lives.  But she loves us for who we are, and never expected anything more from us.”  She hummed again.  “It’s like she knows… we’ll grow into our own in due time.”

   Keith smiled again, and for the first time realized he wasn’t jealous of Shiro anymore.  He looked over at Allura.  “Princess?”

   She looked up at him.  “Yes?”

   “I wanted to dance with her one last time, but I’m not sure I’m ready.”  He flicked his eyes away.  “I’m not ready for… for the questions I want to ask, or the steps I need to take… I’m not sure I’m ready to let go.”

   There was more that he wasn’t saying, but Allura wasn’t sure what it might be.  “Is there any way I can help?” she asked softly.

   He raised his eyes to hers again.  “Would you… I-if I asked… would you dance with me?”

   The princess gave him a sad smile, and then slid her hand into his.  “I’d be delighted.”

   It took them a surprisingly short amount of time to adjust to one another.  Allura was pleasantly surprised by Keith’s strong leadership, and they conversed quietly about dance forms, steps and tricks, and then anecdotes about how Keith and Pidge had managed to incorporate what he had learned into their mission to Aepsis.  

   It wasn’t romantic; neither of them were ready for that; but it was fun, and they learned from each other.  Upon further reflection, Allura realized that’s what the dance was really about; enjoying each other while they had the chance.  There were too many things to regret in this war.  This didn’t have to be one of those things.

   So when the last dance came, and most of the other former prisoners had left the party, Keith was ready.  And even if he wasn’t, he was used to rushing into things unprepared.  How bad could it be, really?

   He approached Miela from behind and coughed gently.  “Miela?”

   She turned and looked up at him with a smile.  “Yes, Keith?”

   Keith returned her smile a little uncertainly.  “Would you care to dance with me?”

   “Sure.” 

   As a courtesy, the red paladin looked up at Shiro, who stood nearby.  “Do you mind if I borrow her for a few minutes?”

   Shiro gave him an assenting nod, and Keith offered the woman his arm and led her out onto the dance floor.  He gently took her into closed position as a slow, sad song from home billowed into the room.

   “I’m glad I got a second chance to dance with you,” Keith murmured over the music.  “I kind of overstepped my boundaries last time, and I wanted to make it up to you.”

   Miela harrumphed, and then laughed under her breath.  “It’s all right.  But I’m glad I got to see how you’ve improved.”

   He smirked at her.  “So I _have_ improved?”

   “Of course.”  She gave him an encouraging smile.  “I was sure that, out of all the paladins, you would excel at this.”

   “Thanks.  I’m glad you think so.”

   They were quiet for a little while, until Keith’s smile faded, and Miela looked up.

   “What’s wrong, Keith?”

   He glanced at her.  “Are you sure you want to know?” he asked.

   “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

   He bobbed his head to acknowledge the comment.  “To be honest, I was curious about what you did with Hayze, and…  I guess I wondered if… if there was a sort of… _favor_ you could do for me.”

   She gave him a wary look.  “That depends on the favor,” she said.

   Keith looked down, into her shoulder.  “I was wondering if…”  He swallowed.

   “Keith?”  Filomena stopped dancing, and looked up at him with worry in her face.

   His eyes immediately went to the floor.  “Can you… Can you make someone forget something?”

   Her fingers clenched in his, and then relaxed.  “You want to forget me.”

   “Yes.”

   She was quiet for a moment.  Out of his peripheral vision, Keith saw her lower her chin slightly.  He chanced a look up at her face, and immediately regretted asking her.  The woman’s eyes were filling with tears.

   Keith sighed, and then lifted her face with the pressure of a single finger.  “You haven’t done anything wrong,” he said softly.  He lowered his hand.  “It’s… it’s me.  It’s because of how I feel,” he said quietly.  He looked away.  “I never knew my mom.  I don’t remember being loved as a kid; at least, not as somebody’s _son_.  So… all the things I’ve felt since I met you… they’re confusing.  They hurt.  And knowing you’re leaving hurts more than anything.  It’s like… I had a mother, for two weeks, and now you’re taking her away again.”

   Filomena seemed to understand.  She studied him for a moment, and then took him back into closed position.  “I see,” she said.

   “You do?”

   She nodded.  “And… thank you for clarifying that for me.”  She smiled.  “I’m honored that you have decided to think of me that way, Keith, but I don’t have that ability.”  She shook her head gently.  “I can disconnect you from me, like I did to Hayze, but I think it would make you feel worse than you already do.”

   “How?”

   She looked up at him again.  “It wouldn’t just feel like I had left,” she explained.  “This would feel more like I had… like I had passed away.”  She leaned her head into his shoulder.  “You’d feel all the loss associated with my death, and you’d still remember everything.”

   Keith sighed and resumed their dance.  “I understand.  I just… I’m really going to miss you.”

   “I’ll miss you too.”  She swayed with him to the gentle rhythm of the song.  “But… Keith, even if I could do something like that, I think I might have refused.”  She felt him tilt his head slightly to look at her.  “We’re not supposed to be flat; we’re not made of paper.  The people we meet are meant to add depth to us; dimensions, perhaps; so that we might become more than just the scars on our pasts.”  She lifted her head off his shoulder.  “You were meant to be _more_ , Keith.”  She smiled at him.  “And it was a privilege to be a part of your life, however short my time with you was.”

   He released her hand and wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her in for a tight hug.

   Filomena made a noise of surprise when the tips of her toes left the floor, but then she returned his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck.

   “Please,” he begged at a whisper, “don’t leave.”

   She pulled her fingers through the waves of black hair against the back of his neck.  “I have to, my sweet.”  Her voice was soft and sad.  “But I’ll see you again.”

   “How do you know?” he asked.

   She laughed, low and short, and combed her fingers through his hair again.  “Sometimes I just know.”  She turned her head and leaned in closer to his ear.  “It’s one of my spooky powers.”

   Keith finally allowed himself a laugh, and set her down.  “Then I guess I’ll just have to trust you, won’t I?”

   “Perhaps,” she said, a wry laugh under her voice.  She smiled up at him, and brushed the hair out of his face once.  “Why don’t we get everyone together for a picture?” she asked.  “Perhaps when he’s older, I can show Cesare what his real family looks like.”  She pinched his cheek between her thumb and finger.  “Including his hotheaded big brother.”

   Keith brushed her off.  “ _Mom_ ,” he whined playfully.

   Filomena laughed.  “I like the sound of that,” she admitted.  “Don’t you?”

   “It fits you perfectly.”


	96. “Shatter Me” - Lindsey Stirling, ft. Lzzy Hale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Filomena have a serious conversation. She teaches him her secrets, but who shatters whom remains a bit of a mystery. Warning: lime.

   The party wound down soon after that.  One by one, the partygoers retired, mostly to the sleep chamber, though Matik escorted a few tired souls back to the lounge with her. 

   Hunk watched them go, satisfied at the pleasantly sleepy expressions of each reveler.  

   Shiro clapped a hand down on Hunk’s shoulder.  “That was a great party, Hunk.  Everyone seemed to have a good time.”

   The yellow paladin looked up at his commanding officer.  “You too?”

   Shiro laughed under his breath.  “Me too.”

   “Did you… find what you were looking for?” Hunk asked, a little vaguely.

   The black paladin looked up at Filomena, who was busy gently waking one of her friends, who had dozed off in the corner next to the door.  “I think so,” the older man said thoughtfully.

   “You… think so?”

   Shiro looked down at Hunk and smiled.  “I just don’t know if I can keep it.”

   Hunk glanced at Filomena, and a smirk crossed his broad features.  “I dunno.  I bet she’d let you if you asked her.”

   The smile slowly faded from Shiro’s face.  “I’m not so sure it’s something she can decide.”

   Hunk considered the black paladin’s words for a moment before flicking his gaze down at the floor.  “Then… I think you should make the best of it… while you still can.”

   Shiro raised an eyebrow at him.  “People keep saying that, but I’m not actually sure what it means.”

   Hunk shrugged.  “I don’t think that’s for me to say.  I guess just… use your imagination?”

   “That… sounds dangerous.”

   Hunk smiled and turned away to start cleaning up.  “Eh,” he said noncommittally.  “I’m sure you both can handle it.”

   He left Shiro standing there, looking around at the waning celebration and feeling curiously empty.  A hand appeared on his arm, and he looked down at Filomena, who had sidled up beside him.

   “Should we go?” she asked softly.

   Shiro smiled and patted the back of her hand, and looked around again.  “I almost don’t want to,” he said.  He sighed.  “But I know that in a few minutes I’m going to be the only one standing here, and it’ll all be over.”

   The woman made a noise in her throat.  “Maybe not entirely.”  She stroked his arm, and he looked down at her again.  After a moment of studying her, her smile widened, and she let a laugh out under her breath.

   “What’s so funny?” Shiro asked, unable to hide his own smile.  He turned to face her full on, his hands finding the natural curves above her hip bones.

   She flicked her hair over her shoulder and let her arms rest on the crests of his shoulders.  “You’re living in the future,” she said.  “That’s more worry than it’s worth, I assure you.”

   Shiro scoffed.  “Don’t tell me you don’t do it.”

   “I do it all the time,” she said with a nod.  “But the more I do it, the more anxious and sad I become, and I would much rather enjoy what I have _now_.”  She glanced down and scraped her teeth over her lower lip.  “Something Don once told me… he told me to ‘be where my feet are’.”  She looked up at him again.  “It took me a long time to realize what he meant.”

   Shiro harrumphed.  “I’m sure that’s one of those things that was lost in translation.”  Then he glanced up thoughtfully.  “Although, to be fair, I had never heard it put quite that way.”

   She chuckled.  “And here I thought it was a common phrase for Americans.”

   “No,” the black paladin said laughingly.  He considered the thought for a moment as he tried to absorb the sparkling green in her eyes.  “I like it,” he said.  “I’ll have to save that one for later.”

   Filomena traced her fingers around his left ear.  “It keeps me grounded.  It kept me alive.”  She met his gaze again.  There was something she didn’t want to say, and he could hear it in the growing silence around them.  Maybe it will keep you grounded, keep you alive.

   Shiro’s smile faded.  He wanted to keep her here, just like this.  But as he watched her eyes, he remembered what Kolivan had said; there was something that needed to change before she left.  

   He leaned down and kissed her softly.  It was the first time he had done so in a public setting, and so he kept it brief and chaste.  He sighed when their lips parted, and he nodded his head toward the door.  “Come on,” he said, almost reluctantly.  “There’s something I wanted to talk about.”

   He led the woman out into the hall with her hand in the crook of his arm.  They were quiet until they got to the observation deck where Filomena had given him his ring. “Here?” Filomena asked.

   Shiro made a positive sound and gestured for her to lead him into the room.  He closed the door, and then reached out and found the small of her back with his right hand.  “Do you mind if I leave the lights off?”

   “No.”  He could hear the smirk in her voice.

   “Don’t get any ideas,” Shiro admonished with a chuckle.  “I really need to talk to you.”

   “You’re very close for someone who doesn’t want me to ‘get any ideas’,” she purred.

   He harrumphed softly and kissed her cheek.  “I didn’t say it wasn’t tempting.”  His fingers tightened around her waist once, and then he released her.

   “You’re such a tease,” she groaned.  She sighed and watched him come around her left side to take several steps further into the room.  “What did you want to talk about?”

   Shiro sighed softly, and felt his smile fade.  “I want you to teach me what you did.”

   She was quiet for a moment.  Finally, she took a few steps toward him.  “You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer this time, will you?”

   “No.”  The ambient light shifted off the sequins on her dress, and Shiro felt his throat tighten.  He swallowed the feeling; he needed to be able to talk, to have a coherent dialogue.  And he needed to tell her why.  He flicked his eyes at the floor, scanning for something else to focus on.  “I… I know you have an anchor with Hayze.”

   Filomena felt the pain of that name shoot through her, and her expression became hurt and defensive.  She watched Shiro, waiting for him to say something else, to explain himself, but he didn’t.  He would let her figure it out on her own, because she was perfectly capable.  And as she considered him, her figure and face slowly relaxed again.  “I… I suppose that is true,” she finally said.  “I can certainly see why anyone would think that.”  She studied him a moment longer.  “And you want to sever that link?”

   Shiro raised his gaze to her.  “That would be my intent, yes.”  He raised his index finger in the air.  “But,” he added, “with another step added in.”  He took two steps closer to her, and reached down and took both her hands in his.  “I want to create a bond between _us_ instead.”

   Her eyes widened, and she stared at him for a few more moments.  “Do you… have any idea what you’re suggesting?” she asked.

   Shiro smirked and nodded.  “I have a pretty good idea.”  He chewed his lower lip for a moment.  “You gave me a ring, claimed me as yours…  This… seemed like the next logical step.”

   Filomena shook her head slightly.  “This is… That would be considered ‘moving very fast,’ Takashi.”

   “We’re not exactly your average couple,” he chuckled in response.  Then he sighed.  “Look,” he said, “I want to do this.  I don’t want you to stay bound to something hateful; something that chips away at you for the rest of your life.  I would much rather you have a bond with me, so that I can be something _pleasant_ that you can remember about this whole ordeal.”

   A smile crossed her face, and she squeezed his hands.  “You know I’ll never be able to forget you.”  She sighed and reached up to brush the white hair off his forehead.  “But I see what you mean.  I’d be lying if I said everything was just fine now.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “It still won’t be when we’re done,” he said, “but it’ll be better than before.”

   Filomena smiled.  “I guess it’s something.”

   Shiro nodded and smiled back.  “It definitely is.”  

   She sighed and looked at the couch near where they stood.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

   “I’m sure.”  He smiled.

   Filomena released his hands and smoothed her skirts along her legs before sitting down.  She sighed.  “All right, we’ll use the crash-course method.  You are right-handed?”  He nodded and sat down next to her.  “Very well.  Place your hand over my heart.”

   Shiro glanced briefly at his prosthetic, and then hesitantly reached out and pressed his palm flat to her chest.  His shoulders relaxed a bit as she returned the gesture.

   “Close your eyes.”  Shiro obeyed.  “Good.  Now, activate your arm.”

   Shiro’s eyes snapped open, and he jerked away.  “What?  No!  Are you crazy?”

   “That’s up for debate.”

   “That could kill you!”

   “Would that be your intent?”

   Shiro stopped, looking at her, waiting for his breathing to slow.  “No.  Of course not.”

   “Isn’t that how it works?”

   Slowly, he nodded.  “Y-yes…”  Then he shook his head.  “But… it’s never been good for anything except destroying things.”  He looked at the prosthetic.

   “Hey.”  She cupped his hand between hers.  His eyes flicked up at hers.  “Do you trust me?”

   “Yes,” he whispered.  “I just don’t want to hurt you again.”

   “You won’t.”  She pulled his hand in again and pressed it to her chest.  “We’ll go slow, then.”

   Shiro nodded and closed his eyes again.

   “Imagine a door,” she instructed softly.  “A door with my picture framed upon it.”

   He raised an eyebrow.  “That’s all there is to it?”

   “I never said it was difficult.”  She waited a moment for the image to come to him.  “Now knock.”

   Shiro smirked.  “I should’ve known that.  Never just walk into someone’s house.”  His smile faded as the imagined door opened, and an image of Filomena greeted him on the other side.

   “Common courtesy is lost on some,” she mumbled.

   Shiro felt a slight tug as she drew him in.  The place felt unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable.  He looked around.  It was the foyer of someone’s home; Filomena’s, he assumed.  There was a hall table, a mirror and a shoe tree inside the door, a hall ahead of him to the living area, and a stairwell to his right, leading up to the second floor.  “Where am I?” he asked.

   Her image smiled at him.  “You’re inside my head,” she said simply.  “This is what my mind looks like.  It’s all the things I’m made up of.  All my memories, my opinions, my accomplishments… my faults.”  She paused to let him look around.  “This is the image I’ve built of myself.”

   “It’s very… _neat_ ,” Shiro said.  “Very organized.”

   “I’m sure you’re quite similar,” she said.  “We compartmentalize the unpleasant things; put them on shelves so that we can function day-to-day, until they become too large to work around.”  She gestured up the stairs behind her.  “Look around long enough, and you’ll see what I mean.”

   Shiro looked up the stairs.  The chandelier in the foyer lit the stairwell quite well, and he could see numerous picture frames hung on the walls, though at the moment many of the pictures seemed blurry.  Still, he managed to recognize the images he had seen in their vetting session with Allura: an empty shotgun shell with a .45 caliber hole through it, a brightly lit stage, a family photo.  He smiled as he realized he was walking among a few of her stronger memories.

   There were sixteen steps to the top of the stairs, though it felt like it took him more than that.  He wanted to pause and take time on each photo; time he didn’t have; time he needed to help her.  He reached the top step and looked left, down a long hallway, and then right, into the master bedroom.  The room was large; more than comfortable, with a vaulted ceiling ringed with crown moldings, and wing-backed chairs and bookshelves in the corners against the windows.  She had furnished the room with an elegant set of armoires and an antique vanity, all in dark-stained oak, and centered the room around a massive king-sized bed.

   He wanted to be part of this scene, and here, in this private place, he felt he could finally admit it.  But what puzzled him was that there was a sense of fear tainting the room, and as he stepped toward the bed, he realized he could _see_ it.  The pleasant floral bedspread was marred with a splash of deep, black ooze.

   “What is that?” Shiro asked.

   “I don’t know,” she answered.  “Too often, we become so used to the things that bother us that we can no longer distinguish them from what comes naturally.”  Filomena’s manifest appeared beside him and folded her arms across her chest.  “Negative emotions and images become perceived as ‘normal’ when reinforced a certain number of times.”  She reached down and dipped the tip of one finger in the grease-like substance.  “This particular anomaly is shame.”

   “You can tell just by touching it?” Shiro asked, making a face.

   “Yes.”  She looked up at him.  “And now that I know it’s here, I can get rid of it, or at least ameliorate it.”

   As if by magic, the window on the right side of the room slid open.  Shiro felt himself jerk in alarm, but Filomena seemed unconcerned.  The grease stain pulled upward, dissolving into a black mist as it came clean from the bedspread.  An unseen force pulled the mist across the room and out of the window, and the glass pane slid back into place without a sound.

   Shiro flicked his gaze at the woman.  “How did you do that?”

   The image smirked at him, then shrugged.  “It’s my head.  I can do what I please.  The only things that are impossible are the things I deem so.”  She ran a hand down across the top of the bed.  It still wasn’t perfectly clean; the ooze had left some discoloration, but it was better than before.

   Shiro watched her with fascination.  It suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable that she should be able to perform such supernatural acts in the privacy of her own mind.  Then his mind flicked to the bed.  It could be him lying here, next to her, warm under rumpled bedclothes.  And just as suddenly, the shame of that thought snapped shut on him.  Was that the residue of the stuff she had just cleaned off the bed?

   “Don’t do that,” she said.

   Shiro glanced up at her.  “Do what?”

   “Don’t let it get to you,” she said with a shake of her head.  “The shame is mine.  Do not make it yours.”

   “You can read my thoughts now?” Shiro asked, allowing one corner of his mouth to turn up.

   She shook her head.  “I perceive emotions as colors,” she answered, “and individual thoughts as… hm… confetti, I suppose.  Little wispy, fluttering things.”  She stood to her full height.  “While I can’t make out the entire thought, I can see the emotion behind it and connect it to a likely source.”

   Shiro felt himself cock his head.  “So if the ‘color’ of one of my thoughts matches one of yours, you can tell what I’m reacting to.”

   “Essentially, yes.”  She gestured to the bed again.  “And when the unwanted things are omitted, certain other things become much clearer.”

   Shiro looked down, and for the first time seemed to realize that there was something under the discolored bedspread; a smallish lump, curved in the shape of a human body.  He looked up at Filomena, but she only nodded.  The black paladin took that as her permission, and felt himself reach over and turn down the coverlet.

   A full head of billowing blonde curls appeared from under the covers, where once there had been nothing but a black stain.

   Shiro frowned.  “A girl?” he asked.  And it was a girl, no more than twelve, he supposed, skinny and gamine, like Pidge, but more delicate.  She was curled in a loose fetal position, fast asleep in the center of the bed.

   Filomena hummed.  “She must be one of mine.”

   “One of yours?”  Shiro looked up, but the image of Filomena had disappeared.  “Filomena?”

   “I’m still here,” she said.  “Remember, I’m still sitting right next to you.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “Right.”  He refocused on the girl in the middle of the bed.  “What do you mean, ‘one of yours’?” he asked.

   “You won’t believe me until you see for yourself,” she said.  “Go back downstairs.”

   Shiro returned to the corridor and turned left to descend the stairs again.  Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed a figure standing in the hall, which hadn’t been there before.  It was a dark-haired woman in an antique brown skirt suit and ankle boots, and her outfit was topped with a matching hat.  Her face was chiseled, and she was about twenty years older than Filomena, with slight creases around her mouth.  She was leaned against the wall, ankles crossed, reading a paperback book.

   Shiro narrowed his eyes at her.  “There’s a woman standing here.”

   “There is?” Filomena asked, as if she hadn’t noticed.  “I’m sorry, Takashi.  These figures are part of me.  I usually don’t see them.”

   The black paladin approached the woman, but she didn’t seem to notice him until he reached up and put a hand on her shoulder.  “Excuse me.”

   She brushed him off, saying something he somehow understood.  “Je suis occupé.”

   Shiro raised his eyebrows.  “She said she’s busy.”

   “Then she’s probably not the one you need to talk to.”

   “But…”  It hit him then what was bothering him about the woman.  “I recognize her.”  He felt himself lean in closer to the figure.  He studied her until she flicked her dark eyes up at him, obviously uneasy with his closeness.  “No… I _know_ this woman intimately.”  He squinted at her, and she cocked her head and squinted back.  He knew her name.  “Marie?”

   She blinked at him, and let her book fall closed.  “Martin?”

   Martin.  She had called him someone else’s name, and it was _his_ name, and _his_ life.  He remembered crashing into her at school and spilling his lunch tray on her, and being so mortified he couldn’t talk.  He remembered a two-story townhouse in Paris, where he had carried her over the threshold, and they had made love on the cold oak floor in front of the fire before their bed had been shipped.  He remembered reading that book to her every night until she fell asleep on his shoulder, and waking up laughing after they had gone to bed mad.  He remembered her crying when she found out their daughter had run away to Berlin with a German boy.  He remembered holding her hand in the car until the Russian soldiers dragged them out… and shot them against the walls of East Berlin.  All the things _Martin_ had done.

   Shiro jolted backward as the other man’s life and death pulsed through him.  “Oh my god,” he breathed.  “That was our… that was our life.”

   “Yes,” she acknowledged.

   “They were _real_ ,” he insisted.  “They were _real people_.”

   “Yes.”

   “She was my _wife_ ,” he said, “and I loved her.  I loved…”  He stopped suddenly, and looked down at the figure of Marie, forty-five and dark-eyed and still beautiful.  “You.  I loved you.”  He ran a hand over Marie’s cheek, and for a moment longer, remembered being Martin.  “This is a past life.”

   “Yes.”

   Shiro swallowed the shock and took a breath.  “That was what you meant,” he murmured.  “The girl upstairs is one of your past selves.”

   “Yes.”

   “Who is she?”

   She shifted under his hand, and Shiro realized she had just shaken her head.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know them all.”

   “How many are there?”

   “I don’t know.  Hundreds.  Perhaps more.”

   Shiro looked over Marie’s shoulder, into a brightly lit kitchen.  There were more people in there, he realized suddenly.  They all stood around, unaware of each other, as transparent as ghosts, all minding their own businesses.  “Will I know them all?”

   “Probably not.  I didn’t mean for you to see any of them, but you really wanted to talk to Marie.”

   Shiro looked back down at the dark-haired woman.  “She must be important, somehow.”

   The image of Marie raised an arm and pointed at a door just down the hall.

   Shiro looked.  He instinctively knew where it led; the basement.  That was appropriate.  That’s where all the secrets are always kept.  He opened the door and felt himself descending further into darkness.

   “How deep does it go?” Shiro asked, almost absently.

   “That’s unquantifiable.  Suffice it to say it goes deep enough.”

   Just as she said it, Shiro saw a light.  It shone down on a wide, jagged circle of concrete floor in the middle of the darkness, with no perceivable walls to enclose it except the shadows.  In the center of the lit area sat a figure.  He knew it was human, by its shape, but under its gray veil it was impossible to determine its age or sex.  The being was cloaked in cobwebs, and to add to its torment, it had been twisted up under several dozen chains that sprouted off like vines into the darkness.

   Shiro approached the seated figure cautiously.  “This is what you saw,” he said softly.  “This… horror.”  He made a face.  “Reminds me of Jacob Marley, from ‘A Christmas Carol’.”

   He heard her harrumph.  “I suppose that’s fair.”

   Shiro picked up a chain.  “Which one is it?” he asked.  But before she even answered, he knew he wasn’t holding the right one.

   “I don’t know.”

   He hummed.  “This one isn’t heavy…”  He let it fall from his hand and picked up another, and then another, studying each with his eyes and with his hands and with his mind.  It occurred to him that the weight and make of each chain depended on the relationships she held with the people on the other ends.  He dropped his current handful and dug around in the semi-dark for the biggest, ugliest, heaviest chain he could find.  It wasn’t difficult to find, now that he knew what he was looking for.  He picked up a two-inch-thick cast-iron link and hauled it out of the mess.  “I think I found it.  How do I break it?”

   She laughed, though it sounded nervous.  “However you like, I guess.  Use your imagination.”  Shiro looked at the chain in his hand, and heard her say something else.  “Didn’t you say you had something only good for destroying things?”

   He felt his right hand clench around the chain, felt heat streak down his arm, and the link gave between his fingers, just like melted butter.  The figure under the gray veil twisted and moaned, and he looked up.  “Am I hurting you?” he asked.

   “Yes,” she said.  Her voice cracked, and he felt her fingers tighten in his vest.  How had he forgotten she was there?  She sniffled, and he felt her shift to wipe her face.  “But I trust you.  Go ahead.”

   He hesitated, looked down at the broken chain in his hand.  The figure in the light thrashed, threw back its head and let out a wail Shiro thought the whole ship should hear.  But it didn’t attack him.  She was keeping it from attacking him.  He considered the melted link between his fingers once more, and then brought it in and pressed the molten end to the center of his chest.

   It burned like he thought it wouldn’t; there was no heat, but a definite pain washed over him in a shockwave that had his knees shaking, shoulders aching.  The figure under the veil wrenched around, and suddenly he knew it was looking at him.  

   You.  You did this.  The creature lunged at him, knocked him onto his back, and pinned him there.  He grabbed it by its shoulders, and it hissed, but nothing else.  

   That’s when Shiro hesitated.  It wasn’t heavy.  It wasn’t powerful; quite the opposite.  Its body was light and flimsy, weak; its fingers dug into his clothes, desperate for something to cling to.  This being was the most vulnerable part of Filomena, a section of herself that she gave to others, often before they knew what they were being given.

   Shiro slowly reached up and raised the veil off the being’s face.

   She was thin.  Scarred.  Scared.  Her green eyes were hollow, and her hair was torn and dirty, but it was her, and she was beautiful.  He traced the tracks of dirt and tears on her face, and swore to himself to erase every mark, kiss every scar until she loved herself again.

   The pain in Shiro’s chest became bearable, and then almost tender, and the chain between them began to shine.

   Shiro opened his eyes.  He felt lightheaded, and the woman in front of him seemed misty, elegant and subtly shining in the ambient light.

   “Did it work?” he whispered.

   She exhaled a laugh and glanced down at his hand on her chest.  The mechanical arm was glowing, but she didn’t seem to be in pain.  “I guess it did,” she answered.  She glanced up at him, the violet light reflecting in the depths of her eyes.

   “Does it hurt?” he asked.

   She nodded, and reached up to wipe her eyes.  “Yes.  Not physically, though.”

   Shiro smiled.  “That’s what I was worried about.”  He raised his right hand off her chest, and the purple glow faded.  “I didn’t know it could do that.”

   “You,” she corrected with a shake of her head.  “You did that.  Not your arm.  You.”  She swallowed and looked down at her lap.  “You were capable of that long before they did that to you.”

   Shiro flicked his eyes down at her.  “Are you all right?”

   “I will be.”  She let out a shaky breath.  “It leaves a bit of a rush.”

   Shiro slid his hand across her back.  She was trembling.  “You’ve done this before?” he asked.

   Her head bobbed slightly in the darkness.  “Once.”  She swallowed and raised her head, and Shiro pulled her in against his shoulder.  Her hand found his chest again, and she curled into him, and the little tremors ceased.  “That’s better.”

   Shiro held her there for a moment before an odd thought crossed his mind, and he spoke.  “I _missed_ you,” he murmured.  Then he laughed, not quite sure why he had said it.  “I’m sorry.  That’s weird, isn’t it?”

   She shook her head against him.  “Not really, no.  Think about it.  If what you saw inside my head was true, we’ve known each other for over a century.”  She lifted her head to look at him.  “After all that time, wouldn’t it be normal to miss your wife?”

   He saw what she meant, but the word stuck with him.  “My wife…”  He stared down at her, as if he were still seeing the part of her that used to be Marie.  Finally, he blinked and shook his head slightly.  “Sorry.  I’m feeling kind of… warm and tingly.”  He chuckled sheepishly.  “Is that normal?”

   She made an affirmative sound, and her gaze became shy.  “You’ve just bound yourself to me,” she said.  “Rituals like this tend to come with…” Shiro cut her off with a short kiss on the mouth.  “Come with side effects,” she finished quickly.

   “Never would have guessed,” Shiro said between kisses.  “Certainly wouldn’t have called it a ‘ritual’.”  He paused to savor the feeling of her breath against his mouth, the brush of their noses against one another.  “What kind of side effects?”

   She hummed and ran her hand up his chest, over his shoulder and around to cup the back of his head.  “A desire for intimacy, maybe?” she suggested.

   He hummed thoughtfully.  “You mean sex,” he said.

   She shook her head gently.  “Intimacy.”  She kissed him again, arched into him when he slid both his hands around to the small of her back.  “Sex is optional.”

   “That’s nice to know.”  He reached down and cupped one of her legs to pull her in so that she faced him.  “I guess there’s not really a…” he paused to kiss her again.  “A physical equivalent.”  He stopped for breath, and felt her body slide close.  Her weight on his lap made all his nerves stand at attention, and he could feel a sort of urgency pulling at the sinews behind his shoulder blades.  “Is that all this is?” he asked, feathering his touch up her sides.  “A side effect?”

   She considered him with a hum, and kissed the tip of his nose.  “No.”  He closed his eyes and felt her kiss his cheekbone, and then the outside of his eye socket.  “You wanted me like this before we were bound, didn’t you?”

   Shiro wrapped his arms further around her and squeezed gently.  “Yes,” he whispered.  “Does it… does the act make a difference?”  Her body sank into him slightly, and he sighed when her hips pressed against his.

   She let out her breath in his ear.  “Mm.  No.”  Then the feeling of her teeth, nibbling, pulling his muscles tight.  “That’s not to say it isn’t tempting…”

   Shiro caved.  He let out his breath and turned his head to receive her kiss, his hands finding their way to her shoulders, her back, her hair.  Her body was warm and soft and familiar in a way it hadn’t been before, and he wanted to study her with his hands and his eyes and his lips until he memorized her parts and how they fit together with his.  He felt like he was slowly coming apart, the tired mechanisms in his body rattling against loose bolts, his entire composition being threatened by the motions this woman was making above him.  And there was something underneath; something bright and powerful and terrifying inside him that thrashed against the insides of his ribs like a cage, waiting to be set free, and she was going to _let it out_.

   The entire feeling stunned him.  It wasn’t that he didn’t care; of course he cared.  What if he lost control?  What if he hurt her?  What if they went too far?  No, he realized now that _none of it mattered_.  He could lose control, and she would fly with him.  He could hurt her, and it would never be enough to drive her away.  He could take her to the edges of eternity, farther than too far, and she would leap over the edge with him.

   He could safely say that he had never felt anything so _complete_ in his life.

   He felt himself drop backward, pulling Filomena with him onto the couch.  She reached down and tugged the hem of her skirt out from under her knee so that she could move more freely, and then angled farther down to flick the heel of her shoe off.

   He could _read_ her, just like he could when they were dancing.  He didn’t know he’d be able to do that.  His groping fingertips found the discarded shoe and tossed it off the other side of the couch, where the heel wouldn’t stab him in the leg later.  And then the same hand went back to her hip, the curve of her rear, and the fabric of the dress that, in his opinion, had no business being part of this transaction anymore.

   Filomena slipped her other foot out of its shoe and propped her knee on the couch, straddling Shiro’s hips.

   The black paladin moaned and tugged his fingers through her hair, making her pause and lift her head.  “What have you done to me?” he whispered, not too seriously.

   She followed the motion of his arm, flicking the ends of her hair over her shoulder and grinning before bending to kiss him again.  “What have _I_ done?” she asked with a low laugh.  “You’re the one who did everything.”

   He let her kiss him again.  “Yes, and you’re the only one who seems to know what it was I just did.”  He didn’t want to stop, though.  He kissed her again.  “What did we just do?”

   She gently pulled herself upright, so that she sat on top of him.  Shiro blinked and swallowed, and tried to fight the urge to buck his hips.

   “I didn’t lie to you,” she said softly.  Her voice was serious, but that pressure she was creating under her hips was driving him crazy.  “You severed my link to someone else, and attached it to yourself.”  She rolled her hips, and he gasped and tightened his fingers on her waist.  “That was… a very intimate thing to do.”

   Shiro’s fingers begged at the seams of her dress, fighting her upright position.  He wanted to tear it off.  He wanted to see her, to feel her skin.  He swallowed again.  “I… You said I bound myself to you,” he breathed.

   “Yes.”

   He stopped and took another breath, and then it finally hit him.  “Does that mean…”

   She lowered herself against his chest, her hair falling in thick sheets between his fingers, and brushed noses with him.  “It means I am part of you,” she said.  “It means you will never have to be without me.”

   He acknowledged her with a small noise.  “But what does it _mean_?”

   She giggled slyly.  “It makes words seem so _small_ and _confining_ , doesn’t it?”

   “It does.”  He kissed her again, and then wrapped his arm all the way across her back.  He bucked his hips, levering her up off him enough to tuck her heels under the bend of his knees.  “Hold on.”  Without waiting for her to comply, he lifted up and rolled them off the couch.  Filomena let out a squeak and threw her arms around his neck, but Shiro was steady and strong, and lowered them both to the floor without falling.  She giggled again, and he kissed her slow and sweet before raising up on his elbows.  “You mean to tell me,” he said, dipping down for another kiss, “that I _married_ you.”

   “I can’t answer that, Takashi,” she said warmly.  “There’s not a proper word for the connection you forged.”  She let him kiss her again, entwined her legs with his, and hummed appreciatively as he moved slightly against her.

   “You’re right,” he mused.  “But it feels… close.  Secure.  Warm.”  He sighed as she craned upward to kiss his throat.  “The words aren’t right, all of a sudden.”

   “No,” she agreed.  “But it feels right, and that’s what matters.”

   He smiled and lowered his body onto hers in agreement.  He enjoyed the press of her lips on his for a few moments, and the tender pull of her fingers across the back of his neck.  Just a few more minutes of this, please.  There didn’t have to be anything else; just the two of them sprawled together in the darkness, warm in each other’s company.  But _quiznak_ , if anything, the heat between them was climbing.

   He broke away to nuzzle her jaw.  “I want to touch you,” he murmured.

   She hummed and raised her chin to allow him access to her throat.  “I’m a little surprised you haven’t yet.”

   He scoffed.  “I’d like to think I’m something of a gentleman.”

   Filomena smiled as he ran his fingers into her hair again.  “I am yours to touch,” she murmured.

   “No.”  The word stopped her, and she looked up at him.  Shiro’s eyes were sad and kind.  “Your body is not _mine_ or _anyone else’s_ ,” he insisted.  “If you want me, then I need you to say so.”

   Filomena raised her hand and slowly slid her palm over the sharp angle of his jaw bone.  “I do,” she said.  She inhaled deeply.  “But… at this moment, I would love nothing more than to _be_ _yours_ ,” she said with a smile.

   Shiro smiled again.  “You honor me.”

   She chuckled and nudged his nose with hers.  “No,” she whispered.  “I…”

   The sound of the door opening shocked them both back to their senses.  Light spilled into the room, over the back of the couch, and Shiro ducked his head and clapped a hand over Filomena’s mouth.

   “Are you sure we’re even gonna find him?” Hunk’s voice.  “I mean, the man is like a cat.  If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found.”

   “Oh, come on,” replied Lance’s voice.  “There’s no way he’d skip out on fresh cannoli.”

   “You’re mistaking him for me,” Hunk corrected.  “ _I_ wouldn’t skip out on fresh cannoli.”

   “Yeah, but it’s Miela’s recipe.”

   “That’s fair, but still.  He’s got other priorities besides food.”

   Lance made a noncommittal noise and stepped further into the room.  “Yeah, but if he wants one, he’d better not wait too long.  She’s not going to be here forever.”  The blue paladin put his hand on the back of the couch.

   Shiro rolled farther into the shadows, pulling Filomena along with him.  A sharp pain in his hip made him jerk; he had stabbed himself on the heel of her discarded shoe.  He twisted back into her, and she tensed and shifted under him.  

   She nipped the inside of his hand, and his eyes focused on hers.  What was she trying to tell him?  Her leg tightened around his, pulling him in and grazing severely neglected nerve endings against her body.  Oh.

   “What did we come in here for, again?” Lance asked.  “We knew we weren’t going to find Shiro here.”

   Little did he know, Shiro thought dryly.  He let his hand relax across Filomena’s mouth, let his index finger dip between her lips.  She nibbled the tip of the finger, eyes fixed on his.  Pay attention to what you’re doing.

   “I left something in here,” Hunk answered.  His footsteps went off to one side of the room.  “Here.  Got it.”  And then the footsteps retreated.

   “Dude, all that for a notepad?”

   “It’s got all my recipes on it!  Leave me alone!”  And then the door closed.

   Shiro let out his breath and looked down at Filomena.  “God, you’re terrible.”

   “ _I’m_ terrible?” she hissed.  “You’re the one on top.”

   The black paladin smiled at the thought.  “So I am,” he acknowledged.  “That was a little too close, though.”  He paused to catch his breath, and studied her for a moment.  “Your room?”

   She nodded quickly.  “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, long chapter, I know. But still... I bet you can figure out what happens next.  
> This is going to be a nice few weeks for you, my lovely readers. ;3


	97. “Give me Love” - Ed Sheeran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Filomena share an intimate moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: stuff is implied. Nothing explicit, I promise. If you don't like/ want this kind of stuff, then skip to the next chapter. You won't miss anything.

   They made it back to her room without meeting anyone, shut the door and turned down the lights.

   “You know, I didn’t think to ask earlier,” Shiro mused, wrapping her back up in his arms and bending to kiss her shoulder, “who it was you bonded with the first time.”

   She scoffed gently and nuzzled his ear.  “It seems to matter more than who I’ve bedded, doesn’t it?”  Shiro made a noise of assent, and she went on.  “The one who taught me how.  The same one who almost killed me.”

   “So why did you do it?”

   She ran her hands up over the swells of his shoulder blades.  “The only reason.  Because I was in love with him.”

   Shiro didn’t ask if she was still in love with that man.  He had seen the chains that bound her to her past, and he knew in his heart of hearts that that particular connection no longer existed.  Then a light flickered on inside his head.  “The only reason?” he asked.  He smirked and drew back to look at her.

   “Yes.”

   The smirk became a smile.  Matik was right, after all.  “I take it that was some time before you found out what he was really like.”

   She returned the grin.  “You are sharp, aren’t you?”

   He cocked his head slightly.  “I’m all right.”  He bent and kissed her again.  “But tell me something.”

   “Hm?”

   “You mentioned a side effect of this bonding,” he said between kisses.  “I see what you mean, but you also said that… mm… physical consummation was optional.”

   She nodded and made an affirmative noise.

   “How did you get away with that the first time?”  He squeezed her.  “How did you resist?”

   Filomena raised her eyebrows.  “Easily,” she answered.  “We were six hundred fifty kilometers apart when we formed our bond.”

   Shiro paused to make a quick calculation in his head.  That was about four hundred miles, if his distracted mind wasn’t mistaken.  He shook his head.  “I think I would have made the trip,” he confessed.  “Did he?”

   “No.  Not that day.”

   “I would have.”

   She chuckled.  “I know.”  She pulled him in for another kiss.

   She was so _warm_ , so _soft_.  Shiro’s fingers slid into her hair, cupping her head and deepening their kiss.  She took him by the vest and pulled him until they met the wall, so that Shiro had her fenced in with his arms.  She wanted to be touched, wanted him pressed close.  Shiro ran his hands over the curves of her shoulders, down her ribcage, and slid both hands into the gap between the small of her back and the wall.  He dug his fingers in gently, and she arched into him and made a little noise of pleasure against his mouth.  _More_.

   Shiro’s hands drifted lower, to her hips.  He wanted to pick her up, have her wrap her legs around his waist again, but he waited.  No need to rush this.  He leaned against her, his body finding the perfect position against hers, which sent heat rushing all the way to his toes.

   He broke away, breathless and shaking.  “I want you,” he breathed.  “God, I… I want you.”  He shook his head gently, the white hair brushing the tip of her nose.  “I don’t know how you withstood the frustration.”

   She gave him a sly smile.  “It’s a learned skill.”  She waited for his breathing to slow before running her fingers through his hair.  “Are you sure about this?” she asked softly.

   Shiro laughed under his breath.  “I should be asking you that,” he murmured.  He bent to kiss her again, combing the fingers of his left hand into the hair behind her ear.  “But I get the feeling you wouldn’t let me do anything you didn’t want.”

   She smiled.  “You’re learning.”  Her fingers tugged at the seams of his shirt.  “I guess I’m just a little worried that something like this might break you.”

   The black paladin drew back and sighed.  “Look at me,” he said.  “I’m an absolute mess.  I have so many parts missing of my body, of my mind…”  He shook his head.  “I am rubble.  There is nothing left for you to break.”

   Filomena’s eyebrows drew together in a look that, for some reason, resembled despair.  She shook her head.  “You’re wrong,” she whispered.

   “How so?”

   She raised her eyes to his, and let out a huff.  “I could shatter you with two words.”

   Shiro smiled as he remembered briefly that two little words in Italian could be three little words in English.  “If I’m right about what those words are, then no, you couldn’t.”

   She raised an eyebrow.  “Who said _those_ two words were the ones I’d use?” she asked dryly.

   He nodded in consideration.  “That’s fair.”  He tugged his fingers further into her hair.  “Enlighten me, then.  What two words could you use to break me any more than I already am?”

   She sighed and shook her head gently.  She knew by now that he just liked challenging her.  “Are you sure you want to know?”

   “I’d like to think I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”  He cupped her face and bent to play his lips over her jaw.

   She moaned and let her hands run over the convex curve of his chest and down over his abdomen.  “Very well,” she breathed.  “Since you think you’re so strong, I’ll give you _one_ word,” she bargained.

   “And the other?” he asked.

   “I’ll save it until I have no choice.”

   “Fine.”  He exhaled the word into her ear and smiled when she whimpered.

   Filomena craned her neck to expose more of her skin to his attentions, and used that moment to leave a line of moist-tipped kisses along his shoulder.  She took her time along the muscles in his neck, toying with the nerves under his jaw.  But by far the best part was the noise he made when she took his earlobe between her teeth.  Her lips tightened in a smug smile, and she released him long enough to whisper her carefully chosen word in his ear.

   “ _Spogliami_.”

   He had been right about one thing; it translated to two words in English: undress me. 

   Shiro felt the ground under him crack.  His eyes opened wide, and he lifted his head to study her.  Did she mean it?  Was she sure?  It was pointless to ask, so he searched for the uncertainty in her face and her figure.  Where was it?  Or was it ever there to begin with?

   “Filomena?” he asked.

   “You heard me correctly.”

   Quiznak, she was right.  With the word she chose, one more would have crushed him beyond repair.

   If what she said was true, it still could.

   He couldn’t refuse her, though.  Not after all they had been through together.  Not knowing that this chance might never come again.

   His left hand slowly descended her neck, fingers parting her hair and finding skin below her seventh vertebra.  Then the neckline of her dress.  Then the small dip between the seams, where his fingers found a tiny zipper along her spine.  He closed his fingers around it and pulled, slowly.  The dress loosened around her figure, going slack around the arms and around her middle, until the zipper tugged to a halt at the crest of her hip bones.

   Shiro raised both hands and slid them under the straps of her dress.  He played the tips of his fingers along the bones of her shoulders until the straps came free of her arms, and the garment sank to the floor in a flutter of fabric.

   Skin.  Long stretches of skin separated by the tight bands of her sleek, nude-colored underwear.  One of the things that got her flustered, he remembered.  She was long in the torso, pale and lean, her skin marked with scars.  Shiro paused a moment to look at her, and that was enough to make Filomena’s face turn pink.

   “Wh-what?” she stammered.

   Shiro smiled.  “Dear god, you’re beautiful.”

   She harrumphed and rubbed her arms.  “I’m white as a ghost and I have scars all over me.”

   Shiro closed the space between them.  “Uh huh.  Beautiful.”  He propped his hands on her waist and leaned in to kiss the spot to the right of her nose.  “I want to see all of them.”

   Her head moved slightly in objection.  “Takashi…”

   “I want to study them until I know them,” he said, cutting her off.  His thumbs tightened against her flat abdomen, and her hands appeared on his arms.  She didn’t push him away, but he could tell she wasn’t sure about something.  “I want to touch them, kiss them until you believe I love them as much as the rest of you.”  His hands wandered down to her waistband, thumbs playing along her C-section scar.

   “Takashi, I… I can’t…”

   Shiro paused, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t.  “Can’t?” he asked.  Filomena bit her lip and didn’t answer, and that brought a smirk to Shiro’s face.  “You can’t handle the compliments,” he said with a low laugh.  He ducked in and pecked her mouth, and then took a moment longer to enjoy it, to _really taste_ the sweetness of her lips.  Then he smiled again and laughed.  “One more, then, and we’ll see if you can take it.”

   “Takashi…”

   He harrumphed.  “It won’t hurt.  In fact…”  The fingers of his left hand slipped under her waistband, and her hands tightened on his arms.  “I’ll make sure of that.”

   She inhaled and raised her eyes to his.

   There wasn’t any fear in her face, he realized.  Just uncertainty.  Did he mean the things he was telling her, or were they just lies to open her up and make her vulnerable?  But she was waiting.  Listening.  She swallowed, relaxed her grip, but kept her eyes fixed on his.  “Go on,” she whispered.

   One corner of Shiro’s mouth turned upward.  “I’m going to worship you,” he said, the barest hint of a growl under his voice.  “Will you let me do that?”  His fingers played against the skin of her lower abdomen.  He broke her gaze and bent into her to savor the skin of her neck.  “Will you let me love you until you can’t remember you ever had scars?”

   She let out her breath, let her hands wander up over his shoulders to the neckline of his vest.  “You,” she answered breathlessly.  “Only you.  I’d never let anyone else…”  She inhaled sharply as his teeth grazed her skin.  He didn’t let her go on.  His fingers worked lower, making her breath catch so all that came out was a gasp.

   He hummed smugly at the warmth radiating from her.  “Oh, really?”

   She trembled under him.  “Takashi,” she begged, tugging on his arm, fingers working in his sleeve.  He answered by pushing further, and she choked on the thick air between them, her body going rigid under his hand.  He waited until she caught her breath, and then her right hand pulled at the back of his neck.

   He resisted her with a smirk.  “No one else?”

   “N…No,” she gasped.  “I t… I trust you.”

   Shiro's smile slowly faded.  “You’re awfully sensitive,” he noticed, releasing the pressure of his left hand.  

   Immediately, her chest and shoulders relaxed, and she breathed more deeply.  “Ah… _hyper_ sensitive might be the correct term,” she said with a nervous laugh.  “I’m told I was unbearable as a child; very much a cry-baby.”  She chuckled.  “It’s why my pain tolerance is very high, but… I’m afraid it has made me a somewhat _difficult_ lover.”

   Shiro made a noise of understanding and bobbed his head.  Of course it wouldn’t be easy; loving her was something that needed to be done with care.  That would make pleasing her a challenge, one he accepted with grace and delicacy.  “I hope you’ll forgive my eagerness,” he said.  “It… It’s been awhile.”

   “A year or so?” she asked.  Shiro coughed in embarrassment, and she let out a short laugh.  “Don’t worry.  That’s something else you and I have in common.”

   He smiled and ran his hand back up over the curve of her hip.  “Your skin is so _soft_ ,” he noted, carefully inserting awe into his tone.

   “Surprising,” she breathed, though the embarrassed grumble was missing from her voice.

   “No,” Shiro said.  “Not really.”  He kissed her ear.  “But I mention it because…”  His fingers wandered in teasing little circles.  “I want to enjoy every… last… inch of it.”

   After that, it was a blur.  Shiro didn’t remember who unzipped his vest, but he remembered the speed with which he tore it off so that he could press himself to her again.  The tickle of her fingernails under his shirt was sweeter than sugar, and came with a buzz stronger than caffeine.  And then there was her skin on his, soft and hot, her hands caressing the curve of every muscle, the arc of his spine, fingers dragging up lines of moisture on his body.

   It was easier to recall how he had lost his trousers; that was partially her doing.  She had unfastened his belt and the button on his pants, but made no further attempt to remove them until he was sitting on her bed.

   Somewhere in between that and her climbing onto his lap, he had kicked off his boots and socks.  Then and only then did his waistband descend past his hips, and he worked the pants off his legs, trying not to create too much friction between them as he got undressed.  Please, oh please god, make this last.  Forever would be nice, but I can be happy with tonight.

   It was easy to spend all his time exploring her, finding new ways to appreciate her, from the upward twist of her smile to the mole at the tip of her tailbone.  He used the landmarks of her figure to map her out inch by inch, navigating her with all five senses.  But he did nothing without her permission; no, her _guidance_.  Every touch was wordlessly condoned, no move ever made with abandon.  The thought briefly occurred to him that Matik was right again; he had found the needle to his compass.  And she faithfully directed him, step by step, until he found his way home.

   And that was almost what it felt like; home.  This was the first time since he had left Earth that he felt like he _belonged_ somewhere, and it was here, with her.

   It was also the first time in a very long time he felt _whole_.  Even with pieces missing, there was something fresh and fulfilling about losing himself with her.  Every nerve ending came alive, bringing her into sharp focus.  He didn’t remember the last time he had felt so _close_ to someone, and he couldn’t help but want to be even closer.  He could feel the chain between them tugging them together, or maybe that was the feeling of his hands pressing her against his chest.

   He worshipped her like he promised, revering her with beautiful words and half-begged prayers.  He pinned one of her hands in her sheets, fingers knitted, and his entire being worked to vex her, overload her emotions in time with her body.  

   She was hesitant at first, tense and almost shaking under his touch, but under his gentle coaxing, it wasn’t long before she began to relax.  His adulations slowly eased the anxiety in her chest as, little by little, she began to _believe_ him.  She was worth this; the praise, the kisses, the _love._   She was worth it.  And as it sank in, she began to realize something else; something almost as important as _liking herself_.  

   The quiet self-loathing had started long before her abduction; before the exes, before the lovers.  It was something that had been born from a need for self-perfection, and the constant disappointment of not being perfect.  None of it meant anything, now.  Any ill will she’d had before was gone, because right now, he was all that mattered, and she could let everyone else go.  At last, after years of doubt, she was finally _free_.

   But she couldn’t tell him yet; she needed to be calm and sober when she said it.  She didn’t want this to be an ecstatic outburst; it needed to be said with careful consideration.  She respected him that much.  Right now, she needed to enjoy him while they had the freedom and the comfortable darkness.  It could be their only chance, after all.  Their first.  Their last.  

   And after that, only stardust would remain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, I wrote a much racier version of this for... reasons. But for here? Well, what can I say? Discretion is the better part of valor. ;) Besides, I thought this described Shiro and Filomena's relationship quite well.


	98. “Hands to Heaven” - Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Filomena answer each others' questions. Fluff.

   Shiro awoke to an empty dip in the bed beside him.  He blinked and looked around, searching for the warm body that had recently occupied that spot.  Filomena stood a few feet from him, her back turned to him as she slid her arms into a newly acquired bathrobe.  In the dim light, her skin looked softer than velvet, and it made him want to touch her, to put his hands on her again.  Watching her cover herself was oddly disappointing.

   “Are you going somewhere?” he asked softly.

   She turned to look at him, and then smiled.  “No,” she said.  “You’re one of those people whose body temperature drops when they fall asleep.  I got cold.”  She returned to the bed and sat down beside him.  “Did I wake you?”

   Shiro shook his head.  “No.  I think it was your absence.”  He propped his pillow against the head of the bunk, and she lay down with him again, her head on his chest.  “Truth be told, I’ve been scared of falling asleep next to someone.  I have… I get nightmares, and… I don’t know if I’m violent or not, so…”

   “I understand.”

   He smiled, and then went on with his thought.  “It’s the first time in a while that I didn’t dream,” he said.  “It was… really nice.”  He wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder.  “So… I woke up because I didn’t feel you beside me.”

   “I’m sorry,” she said.  She raised her face and smiled at him.  “I’m here now.”

   “Yes, you are.”  He bent to kiss her.  The urgency was gone, leaving only a slightly saccharine sweetness, much like her cannoli.

   She sighed and rested her head on his chest again.  “I was wrong, I think.”

   He made a noise in his throat.  “Hm?”

   “A few days ago,” she said, “when I gave you the ring.”

   “About what?” he asked.  “That’s the clearest description anyone has ever made of their feelings for me.”

   “Well, I think I was wrong.”

   Shiro shifted onto his side to look at her, and she sat up on her elbow to face him.  “What do you mean?” he asked, dismay and uncertainty in his voice.

   She smiled at him for a couple ticks, and he suddenly realized she was trying not to laugh at him.  “I mean I’m in love with you, Takashi.”

   He stared at her for a moment longer, and then a smile worked its way across his face.  He scoffed, and she sputtered and started laughing.  He reached over his shoulder, grabbed his pillow, and smacked her with it.  “You’re so _mean_!” he laughed.  He raised the pillow to strike her again, and she raised her hands in defense and squealed with laughter.

   She grabbed the pillow, and Shiro countered by shifting his weight on top of her and pressing it to her chest.  “No fair!  You’re too heavy!” she whined, struggling under his weight.

   Shiro reached his fingers further around the pillow and dug them into her ribs.  “You didn’t have to _scare_ me like that,” he scolded, still smiling.

   She gave him a wry smile that immediately informed him that tickling was not an effective tactic on her.  “Don’t tell me you didn’t already know,” she chuckled.

   “I know how you hate when people just _assume_ things,” he purred.

   She laughed softly.  “ _Now_ who sounds like a cat?”

   He smiled and lowered himself to kiss her, and then lay down on the pillow on top of her, his chin resting on one of his hands.  “I’ve been thinking, too,” he said.

   She cupped one hand behind her head, and the other wound around to the back of his neck.  “That’s been a dangerous undertaking for you, lately.”

   He scoffed.  “Tell me about it.”  She giggled, and he smirked and went on.  “I’ve been thinking about your proposal,” he said.  “I mean the one about me playing Cesare’s father.”

   Filomena went quiet, and her easy grin slowly faded.  Then she sighed deeply and forced a tight smile, as if she were bracing for something.  “And?” she asked.  “What do you think?”

   Shiro’s gaze shifted to the pillow between them as he thought out what he was going to say.  “I don’t want to be his father,” he said.  She was quiet, and that was just what he had wanted.  “I’ve spent too much time analyzing things that are, upon closer reflection, pretty silly.”  He laughed under his breath.  “I spoke with Hayze just a couple of times, and I wound up seeing a lot of myself in him.”  He raised a hand to stop her before she could object.  “I know.  Silly, right?”  He flicked his eyes at hers once, and then back down.  “But I finally came to the conclusion that I don’t want to be like him.  Cesare’s father is a half-broken, self-centered individual built from toxic circumstances, and I don’t want to be that person to your son.  He means more to me than that.”  He finally looked up at her.  “No, the person I want to be is someone who’s supportive and caring even in the toughest times.  I want to groan and gripe about changing his diapers, and way-too-early mornings with wet spots on the bed, the drool and the dirty clothes and the ear infections and the constant worrying if I’m doing parenting right or not.  I want to love him even when I hate him, and he hates me back.”  He smiled at her.  “I don’t want to be his father.”  He repeated.  “I want to be his _dad_.”

   She was quiet a few ticks longer, and Shiro lifted his head off his hand and tried to focus on her features in the dim light.  “Filomena?”  He felt her move as she pulled her hands in and wiped her face.  “Are you… Are you crying?”

   She shoved his shoulders with both hands.  “Yes!” she snapped.  She growled under her breath and covered her face.  “ _Dio_ , look what you’ve done to me,” she grumbled.

   Shiro made an apologetic sound, something almost like a laugh.  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry!” he cooed.  He reached up and slid his hands under hers, trying to wipe away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

   She shook her head.  “No, don’t be sorry,” she said, her voice still broken with emotion.  “It’s just… I think that’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

   He scoffed and bobbed his head in acknowledgement.  “Well, I’m flattered, but I kind of hate that I made you _cry_!”

   “I know.”  She sniffed and reached up to dry her eyes, and then let her hands come to rest on his arms.  Her eyes flicked up at his, almost shyly.  “I love you, Takashi Shirogane.”

   He smiled.  “I love you too, Filomena…”  He stopped suddenly, and his smile vanished.  One of his eyebrows went up, and he cocked his head.

   She snickered at him.  “I never told you my family name,” she said, finishing his thought for him.  She wrapped her arms around his back.  “I suppose it doesn’t really matter now,” she said.  “I figured I would eventually change it.”

   Shiro nodded.  “We can do that later.  Right now, the suspense is about to kill me.”

   She laughed at him.  “Bianchi,” she said, flicking her eyes down into his collarbones.

   The black paladin gave her a dry stare.  “That’s not funny.”

   Her voice went high with laughter.  “It’s hilarious!” she cackled.  “Our names are almost the same, and you never even knew it.”

   “Yeah, right,” he mumbled.  “You’re just teasing me.”

   “As easy as that would be, I think it’d be easier for you to accept Filomena Bianchi as my birth name.”  She tugged gently on a strand of his hair.  “I can change it to ‘Argento,’ if that would suit you.”

   He smirked, as if he knew the meanings behind both those names.  “You’d really do that?” he asked.

   “I would.”

   Shiro hummed thoughtfully and studied her.  “I’m starting to think you’re still a little bit euphoric,” he mused.  “Just saying something _nice_ brought you to tears, you professed love to me, and now you’re telling me you’re going to change your name to mine.”

   She pushed on his shoulders and raised up against his weight.  “Blame it on whatever you want,” she said.  “I didn’t say it until now because I wanted my mind to be clear.”  Shiro backed away and let her sit up.  “So here we are.  I am focused, I am calm, and my mind has not changed.”

   Shiro sat back and put his hands on his knees.  He watched her for a moment, and then looked at the bed between them and sighed.  “That might be taking it too far,” he said softly.  He looked up at her with a soft smile.  “I am… deeply honored that you would do that for me, but…”  He shook his head.  “There’s a war going on out there, Filomena.  And… there’s always the chance that I won’t come home.”  He looked at the sheets.  “Changing your name is something I want to save until I’m sure our life together can continue.  I don’t want to… to leave you behind with nothing but a name to bind you to me.”

   She studied him for a few more ticks, and then smirked.  “I think you underestimate our bond,” she said.  “What you did can’t be undone by accident; not even in the event of our deaths.  It’s something that must be severed intentionally.”  She took his face in both hands, and he looked up at her.  “From now on, Takashi, I am never without you.”  She smirked at him.  “However,” she amended, “I see your point.  It’s too much, and far too soon.  So I’ll wait.  And when you come home- not if; _when_ \- I’ll be there, if you’ll still have me.”

   Shiro sat still while she pulled herself forward and kissed his mouth.  “I love you,” he murmured.

   “I love you too.”  She kissed him again, more slowly, and gently tugged him back down with her.

   Shiro lowered himself to the mattress, slightly off to her side.  They kissed for a few more minutes, but she broke his concentration by shifting her shoulders upward and twisting her arms so that her shoulders appeared from under her robe.  “What are you doing?” Shiro murmured. 

   She leaned to kiss him again.  “What does it look like?” she asked.

   His eyebrows twitched upward, and a little smile played across his face.  “Getting undressed again?” he guessed, basking in her attention.

   “Mm-hm.”

   He harrumphed.  “You’re going to start something,” he said evenly.  Even so, he returned her kisses and played his fingers under the lapel of her robe, easing it further down her arm.

   “That was the idea.”

   He hummed, cocked his head, and smiled at her before kissing her.  “Just so long as you’re aware.”

   She combed her fingers through his hair.  “I am aware.  Do you object?”

   “Absolutely not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, SO. For those of you who didn't get the joke...
> 
> Bianchi means the same thing as Shiro: white! Filomena jokes that she could change it to "Argento," which means "silver," just like Shirogane.
> 
> There. I ruined the joke.


	99. “Renaissance” - Paolo Buonvino & Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filomena and Hayze have a heart-to-heart. Nothing goes as expected.

   Shiro didn’t dream.  That was the perfect ending to their night together.  He woke to the pressure of her head on his arm, the fingers of his prosthetic draped over the curve of her waist.  Some time during the night, she had put her nightgown back on, and the silk was warm against his palm.

   She was still asleep, snuggled up against him with both arms curled against her chest.  He watched her breathe for a few minutes, memorizing her sleeping face: she had faint, brown freckles across her nose; even with her mouth closed, her lips were so full that a gap remained between them, revealing a single square millimeter of her teeth; her hair was more brown than red, and hadn’t been cut or styled in years, so it had likely been boyishly short when she had been abducted.  Those were the little things his mind registered just before her eyelids began to flutter.

   She opened her eyes and met his stare, and Shiro felt his face flush a little.

   Filomena rubbed the corner of her mouth.  “Was I drooling?” she murmured.

   Shiro laughed.  “No.”  He stroked her hair behind her ear with his left hand.  “I just wanted to memorize your face.”

   She grunted and closed her eyes again.  “You were staring at me while I slept,” she mumbled with a smile.  

   Shiro nodded a little, considering the thought.  “I suppose that’s an accurate description.”

   “I guess I’ll be looking forward to that with Cesare, too.”

   He snorted and covered his mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly.  “Yeah, when he’s _four_ ,” he said.  “You’ve got some time until then.”

   She snuggled deeper into him.  “Well, I guess I should be grateful _someone_ wants to look at me, then,” she mused sleepily.

   Shiro kissed her forehead.  “I couldn’t help it,” he said.  “You’re so pretty, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

   She raised an eyebrow.  “It’s too early in the morning for compliments.”

   “Are you going to kick me out of the bed if I give you another one?” he asked laughingly.

   “You’re on the wrong side of the bed,” she mumbled.

   “Like that would stop you.”

   She smiled.  “Fine.  What compliment?  Then I’ll decide whether or not to kick you out.”

   He smiled and studied her a moment longer before answering.  “I made the right choice,” he said.

   “Hm?”  Her tired eyes rolled open.

   “Our bond,” he clarified.  “I chose the right person.”

   She smirked, and her eyes closed again.  “I’m glad you think so.”

   “You’re perfect.”

   She raised her arm and pointed at the door.  “Out.”

   Shiro chuckled at her expense, then pulled her in and kissed her deeply.  She let him, for a few ticks, and then pushed weakly at his chest.  “Out,” she repeated, a laugh under her voice.  “Get out of my bedroom, you shameless flatterer.”

   “Yeah, that’s me all right,” Shiro grumbled.  He struggled to pull his arm out from under her head, then sat up and turned to clamber over her and out of the bed.  “Are you getting up?”

   She considered the thought with a hum, and then slowly turned over to watch him get dressed.  She made a noise of discomfort and settled into the mattress again with a grimace.  “No, I don’t think so.”

   Shiro stopped what he was doing to look at her, his shirt still gathered in the crooks of his elbows.  “Are you all right?”

   She nodded and made a sound in her throat.  “I’m just kind of sore.”  She stifled a yawn behind her hand.  “I think I’m going to sleep in for a bit longer, while Cesare’s not here.”

   Shiro smirked and let go of his worry with a huff.  “Smart woman.”  He pulled his shirt over his head, and then bent to kiss her again.  “Get some rest.  I’ll see you later today.”

   “All right.”  She shifted her head on her pillow again.  “I love you.”

   Something inside Shiro lit up and began to glow.  She had said it freely, without prompting.  He smiled.  “I love you too.”

   He met no one on the way to breakfast, and that was just fine.  He could enjoy his coffee and cannoli in peace.  In spite of Filomena’s departure looming on the horizon, he felt light and perfectly at ease.  No matter how far she was from him, he could feel her inside his chest, warm and full of hope and stubbornness.  She’d be there even when she wasn’t there.

   He was lazily stirring his second cup of coffee when a voice startled him.

   “You’re humming.”

   Shiro cut himself off mid-tune and looked up at Pidge, who stood in the doorway.  He smirked at her.  “I guess I was.”

   She gave him a suspicious look.  “And that’s ‘Kiss an Angel Good Morning’,” she went on.

   Shiro went back to stirring his coffee.  “Mm-hm.”

   The girl raised an eyebrow at him.  “You don’t hum, and you don’t whistle, even when you’re working.  What suddenly happened…”  She stopped abruptly, and Shiro cut his eyes at her.

   “I suggest you leave that thought _right there_ ,” he said carefully.

   She stared at him, agape, for two more ticks.  “Wha-”

   “You’d better not, Pidge,” he warned gently.  He gave her a sympathetic smile.  “I know how your brain works.”

   The apples of her cheeks went pink, and she gave him a nervous grin.  “Th-thanks.”

   Shiro harrumphed and set his chin in the palm of his left hand.  “I’m sure I’m going to get the third degree from the rest of the team, as it is.”  He lifted his eyes at her in a sheepish, pleading expression.  “So, do you think you can just let me have this one?”

   “Y-yeah.  I think so.”  She finally gave him a smile.  “You look… happy.”

   Shiro laughed under his breath and picked up his coffee.  “You know… Today, I _am_ happy.”

   Pidge’s smile became wry.  “You’re glowing.  Don’t let it show too much, or Lance will catch on, and Keith will start asking lots of awkward questions.”

   Shiro groaned and rolled his eyes.  “Knowing Lance, he’d be _overjoyed_.”  He rubbed his face.  “I’m not sure I could handle that amount of enthusiasm.”

   The green paladin sat down next to him.  “And of course, Keith would be furious.”  Her face bent into a mocking scowl.  “He’d be all, ‘Who are you and what have you done with the _real_ Shiro?  What did you _do_?’”

   Shiro chuckled at her, and then reached up to ruffle her hair.  “I think that’s reason enough to keep this between us.”

   She scoffed and pushed his arm away, just as the kitchen door opened.  There was soft chatter coming from outside the room, and Shiro looked up just in time to see Hunk coming in, arms raised in a big stretch.

   “Oh, that’s a wonderful smell,” he sighed.

   Pidge cocked an eyebrow.  “Coffee?” she asked.

   The yellow paladin smiled.  “And the sweet, drifting aroma of fresh cannoli.”  He glanced at Shiro.  “Have you had any yet?”

   “Probably a few too many,” Shiro admitted with a smirk.  He glanced past Hunk.  “What’s going on out there?”

   Hunk let out a tired growl and meandered further into the kitchen.  “Keith, Lance, and Allura are having a disagreement over the prisoners.”

   “You mean they’re fighting?” Pidge asked.

   He shook his head.  “Oh, no.  It seemed perfectly civil while I was listening.”  He scooped a cannoli into one of his massive hands.  “Keith is afraid that the Voltron team and the Blade of Marmora being together will draw attention, and wants to send the prisoners home; Princess Allura is trying to arrange their seating charts by planetary system, and is almost done; and then Lance went into the sleep chamber to tell them it was time to go home, and suddenly no one wants to leave!”

   Shiro’s eyebrows went up.  “What?” he asked.  “They don’t want to leave?”

   Hunk shrugged.  “I mean, I kind of figured Matik would want to say goodbye to Miela before they parted ways or something, but I didn’t figure on _everybody_ sticking around.”

   “They all want to see her?” Pidge asked.  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”  She glanced at Shiro.  “Well… I say that, but I don’t know.  Did you…um…”  She fumbled for words.  “Did you see her this morning, Shiro?”

   “Was she due on rotation?” he asked, carefully sidestepping the question.

   “Not really,” said Keith as he and Allura stepped over the threshold.  He and Lance were dressed in their uniforms.  “Everyone’s out of the sleep pods.  There’s no real need for her to be present; we just thought she’d be up and around by now, especially since the baby’s awake.”  The red paladin gestured over his shoulder at Lance, who was feeding Cesare a bottle of formula.

   “Yeah,” Lance cut in.  “He woke up over a varga ago.  Shouldn’t she have come to get him by now?”

   Shiro opened his mouth, and then closed it again in indecision.  “Well, _I_ can take him, but I… I don’t know.  Maybe she’s still aslee-?”

   Keith wrinkled his nose, sniffed the kitchen air, and cut him off.  “What is that smell?”

   Hunk looked at him, and sniffed.  “If it’s anything besides coffee and pastry, I can’t smell it.”

   The red paladin took a step closer to Pidge and Shiro.  “It smells kind of like… metal shavings, maybe?”  He shook his head.  “No, that’s not it.”

   “It’s blood.”

   Shiro’s blood ran cold as he recognized Hayze’s voice.  Only a couple ticks later, the alien’s lanky figure ducked the door frame and entered the kitchen, and Shiro leaped to his feet, shoving the table away.

   “Shiro?” Pidge asked in surprise.

   The black paladin narrowed his eyes at Hayze.  “What are you still doing here?”

   Allura answered him.  “Kolivan agreed to take Hayze with him, with the stipulation that we scan him for any other potential tracking devices.”  At the mention of his name, Kolivan appeared in the door behind her, shadowing the younger Galra.

   Keith turned and looked up at Hayze.  “What do you mean, ‘blood’?” he asked.  “Whose?”

   Hayze cocked an eyebrow at the red paladin.  “I don’t know.”  Then he gestured across the room.  “Ask him.”

   Keith’s violet gaze found Shiro.  As it dawned on Keith that Shiro wasn’t injured, his face paled in horror.  “What have you done?” he whispered into the sudden quiet.  But before Shiro could answer, the red paladin turned and darted between the two Galra, out of the kitchen and out of sight.

   “Keith!” Shiro called after him.

   But Keith ignored him, and soon his footsteps faded.

   Pidge sighed and folded her arms.  “Well, this is one of those times I’m hating being smart.”

   Shiro groaned and hung his head.

   Hayze’s left ear angled backward a little, his eyebrows coming together apologetically.  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

   Kolivan glanced at him.  “I would not have thought so.”  Then he looked to Shiro.  “But I suppose that would depend on _why_ the black paladin smells of blood.”

   Shiro stared at Hayze for a moment longer before the light suddenly blinked on behind his eyes.  “Oh no.”  He moved out from behind the table so fast that he shoved Pidge off the bench, and ran for the door.  “Hayze, go get Matik!”

   “ _Me_?” he asked.  “I have _no_ business associating myself with the others.”

   Shiro stopped.  “Do you really think I care about that right now?” he snapped.  “You’re faster than anyone else on board.  Go get her!”

   Hayze’s left ear flexed backward, meekly.  “Y-yes.  Right away.”  He glanced once at Kolivan, who nodded, and then he was off like a shot.

   Shiro jerked his head at Allura.  “I need you to get me into Filomena’s room.”

   Lance suddenly looked tired.  “Dude, you’ve got Keith.  He knows how to get into someone’s room, as we found out, like, two weeks ago.”

   Allura glanced at the blue paladin.  “Actually, I was the one who allowed Keith access to your quarters,” she said.  “All he did was wake you up.”  And then she set off running after Shiro, leaving Lance gaping in the kitchen door.

   They met Keith at the door to Filomena’s quarters, pounding at the metal slab and calling her name so desperately that for a fraction of a second, Shiro was momentarily reminded of “A Streetcar Named Desire.”  Under other circumstances, the thought might have amused him, but just then it only made his heart ache.

   Allura gently wedged her slim figure in beside Keith and unlocked the door with a wave of her hand.

   Filomena was sitting on the floor next to the bed, leaned against the bunk as if she had just fallen out.

   Keith rushed in and skidded to his knees.  “Filomena!”

   She shakily brushed the hair out of her face.  “I’m fine.  I’m okay.  Wh-what are you shouting for?”

   Keith reached out and touched her shoulder.  “You’re shaking!”

   “You scared me!” she retorted, matching his volume.  She looked up at Shiro and Allura, who stood in her doorway.  “What’s wrong?  What’s going on?”  

   The red paladin looked perplexed.  “I…I smelled blood, and I got worried,” he said.  “You’re usually up by now.  Are you okay?  Did you not set your alarm?”

   “Blood?  I don’t understand.  I had an alarm set…”  The woman twisted to look over her shoulder at her clock, and suddenly cringed and doubled over with a grimace, arms folded over her stomach.

   Keith made a noise of alarm, and Shiro closed the gap between them.  “Hey.  _Hey_ ,” he insisted, resting his hand on her other shoulder.  “What is it?  What hurts?”

   “All right, everyone _out_!” Matik’s characteristic whine echoed into the room.

   Filomena looked up at the sound of her friend’s voice, and immediately locked eyes with the gangly figure behind Matik.  Then her eyes went hard, her chin coming down in defiance, and then Shiro and Keith felt her trembling increase.

   Shiro glanced over his shoulder at Hayze, and then he immediately moved to block her view of him.  “Look at me,” he ordered.  She looked at him, but nothing besides her eyes moved.  “You have to breathe.  Filomena, you have t- you have to breathe.”  

   The woman choked out a gasp, and she leaned further into him.  “W-why is he here?  He’s in my room… He’s in my _room_!”

   Shiro’s expression became sad.  All pretense of strength was gone; this was the victim he had seen glimpses of in the past two weeks: the defensiveness, the territorial neurosis of someone who had been violated and left to cope on her own.  His tone softened, almost pleadingly.  “Kolivan was having him scanned for tracking devices before they left.  I sent him to get Matik.  That’s all.  That’s all, I promise.”  He quickly turned and jerked his head at Hayze, and the tall figure disappeared behind the door frame.

   “He’s leaving right now,” said Keith, reassuringly.

   Matik folded her arms.  “He’s not the only one leaving,” she said pointedly.

   Shiro nodded at the Grey, and then looked back at Filomena.  “I’m going to be right outside.  Will you be okay in here with just Matik?”  Filomena nodded and wiped her face, and Shiro and Keith both slowly got to their feet and left her in Matik’s care.

   The black paladin sighed and leaned against the wall outside her door.

   Hayze, who stood a few feet down the hall, looked up at him.  “Well, that was sufficiently awkward,” he mumbled.

   “I can’t argue with that,” Shiro grumbled back.  “But thanks.”

   “Thanks?” the lanky figure asked.  “I am used to having orders barked at me.”

   Shiro looked up at him.  “Be that as it may,” he said, “you’re not a slave anymore.  You cooperated with me, and you didn’t have to.  In my mind, that deserves at least _some_ gratitude.”

   Hayze harrumphed.  “Flattery,” he said dismissively.

   Shiro looked away.  “Take it however you want.  But I wanted you to understand that for just a couple doboshes, you were part of my team, and we _needed_ you.”

   Hayze studied him silently for a few ticks after that, until the door to Filomena’s room opened, and Matik emerged.

   Shiro took a step away from the wall and turned to face her.  “How is she?” he asked.

   The Grey looked at him.  “She needs a cold compress and some anti-inflammatories,” she said.  “She’s fine.”

   The small group let out a collective sigh of relief.

   Keith stepped forward.  “What was wrong with her?” he asked.  Then the red paladin looked up at his commanding officer.  “What did you do?” he asked again.  His tone wasn’t quite as accusatory as before, but it still put Shiro directly in the spotlight he had been trying to avoid.

   The black paladin looked away.  It wasn’t fair; this was supposed to be the one thing he could keep secret, something sweet and wonderful that was all his own and no one else’s.

   The medic folded her arms and harrumphed, as if she already knew what had happened, and went on at a normal volume.  “You all are aware that she’s still recovering from major surgery,” she said.  “A small amount of bleeding under these circumstances is normal, and non-lethal.  However,” and here she pointed her gaze toward he black paladin.  “Her health is still fairly fragile.  She’ll bruise easily, become sore or tired with little effort.”  She paused, and Shiro looked up at her.  “She needs to go home, Shiro.”  The Grey’s voice was tired, reluctant and sad.  “She needs a kind of medicine we do not possess.”

   There was a moment of silence in which the air around them became heavier.  Then the Grey sighed.  “The rest of us want a chance to say our goodbyes.  If she’ll have us, we can say them here.”

   The black paladin raised his head a little.  “I didn’t ask before, Matik, but what are you gong to do with your freedom?”

   She blinked at him.  “My candor seems to be rubbing off on you,” she remarked.  Then she sighed.  “If I am honest with myself, there is probably nothing for me to go home to.  My parents were long dead before I was captured, and returning to my colony will be a difficult adjustment after my time away.”  She folded her arms and hummed thoughtfully.  “I think it might be in both our best interests if I return to Earth with Honey.”

   For a moment, Keith looked alarmed.  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.  Humans don’t take well to things they don’t understand.”

   “I’m well aware,” she replied, flicking her eyes at him.  “The green paladin has modified a cloaking device for me.  Hopefully, I’ll go largely unnoticed.”

   Allura frowned.  “The cloaking only lasts for short intervals,” she began.

   Matik held up her hand.  “I know.”  Her hand descended to her side.  “If I returned to my colony, I’d be next to invisible there, with or without the device.  I would rather stay by my friend’s side and risk discovery than return alone to an unforgiving environment.”

   Shiro nodded his understanding.  “I’m sure she’ll be happy to have you.”

   Matik winked at him.  “I’ll be the best kept secret in Vicenza.”

   Keith smiled.  “You’d better be.  The universe needs you.”

   “Filomena needs me.  She’s all that matters.”

   Hayze watched the farewell addresses with minor interest, but Matik’s final statement made his ear twitch forward intently.  “Matik,” he said softly.

   She turned her head to look at him.  “Yes?”

   He looked at the floor, as if halfway ashamed of the thought he was trying to voice.  “If… If I were chaperoned, do you think she might grant me an audience?”

   The Grey straightened in surprise.  “I’m not sure, Hayze,” she said.  “It might depend on what you wanted to say to her.”

   The young Galra was quiet.

   “This isn’t something for which you can get closure,” Shiro said softly.

   “I know,” Hayze almost whispered.  “But…”  He looked at his palms.  “I wanted to do _something,_ even if it meant letting her know she would never see my face again.”  He closed his hands into fists.  “Perhaps that would be some comfort.”

   Allura took a single step toward him.  “That was all you ever wanted, wasn’t it?” she asked softly.  “You wanted your companions to be able to let go.”

   Hayze didn’t answer, but he lifted his head and perked his ears as a soft voice drifted into the hallway.

   “I’ll see him.”

   Shiro looked over his shoulder at Filomena, who was standing in her doorway.  He stared at her for a moment before his expression settled into a resigned smile.  “Do you want me to come in with him?” he asked.

   Keith's eyebrows went up.  “Shiro?” he asked, disbelievingly.

   The black paladin looked at the boy.  “If she’s willing to see him, I’m not going to discourage her.  She’s made her decision.”

   Keith lowered his chin in disagreement, but Matik nodded and folded her arms in understanding.

   Filomena looked at each of them, but waited for Shiro to look at her again before answering.  “It might be a little ridiculous to have all of you in here at once,” she said with a wry smile.  “Any one of you may come in with us.”  The smile faded, and she flicked her eyes briefly at Hayze.  “I’ll let him choose.”

   Shiro frowned, but said nothing.

   Keith, on the other hand, was less tactful.  “What if he chooses Matik?” he asked.  He turned and looked at the Grey.  “No offense, but she’s the only one of us who’s physically handicapped.”

   Hayze snorted at him.  “Watch what you say, boy,” he grumbled.  He pushed himself away from the wall and took a step toward the door.  “Matik is the only one among you who could take me down without help.”

   All eyes turned to the Grey, who shrugged.  “He’s not wrong,” she said.

   “How is that possible?” Allura asked.

   The medic let out a short laugh.  “Greys can emit a number of frequencies imperceptible to the human ear.  But to the Galra…”  She trailed off with a shrug.

   Hayze’s right ear flexed backward, and he gave her a defensive frown.  “No demonstrations, _please_.”  Then he slid gingerly past Filomena, careful not to touch her or make eye contact.

   Matik had a little chuckle at his expense, and followed him into Filomena’s room.

   Shiro’s eyes finally went back to Filomena.  “I hope you don’t blame me for being a little cautious,” he said softly, “but would you mind leaving your door open?  I won’t eavesdrop, I promise.”

   Filomena smirked at him, but it seemed nervous.  “There’s nothing he can say that I couldn’t share with you openly,” she said.  Then she cocked an eyebrow at him, playfully.  “Besides, I’m claustrophobic.”  Then she turned into her room, leaving the door open wide.

   Almost as soon as she had turned around, Matik wrapped her arm around her friend’s back.  “I said you’re okay, but you should still take it easy,” she said, propping the stump of her left wrist on the shoulder nearest to her.  She walked Filomena over to the bunk and pressed down on her until she sat.

   “Yes, yes, I know,” Filomena acknowledged with a nod.  “I should call you _Mamma_ , the way you dote on me.”  She groaned at the ache in her middle and slid her legs back under her covers. 

   When she was finally comfortable again, the woman gave a sigh and looked up at Hayze.  He obviously hadn’t expected her to look at him, because his left ear twitched backward, and his shoulders tensed.  After a moment of studying him, Filomena gestured to the end of her cot.  “Sit down.”

   His left ear angled downward, uncertainly.  “Are you sure?”  She looked at him again, and he instinctively flicked his gaze away.  “That seems… very familiar.”

   “You’re making me nervous, standing there,” she said, allowing a hint of annoyance into her tone.  “Sit down.”

   Hayze glanced at Matik, and then slowly moved across the room and sat down on the far end of Filomena’s bunk, his fingers knitted patiently across the space between his knees.  He was silent for several seconds, as if trying to settle his discomfort.  Then he glanced sideways at Filomena.  “Are you finished scrutinizing me?” he asked.

   Her eyes narrowed, but her stare didn’t let up.  “No,” she replied unapologetically.

   Hayze blinked at her reply, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.  “All right, I suppose I asked for that one.”  He politely broke her gaze again.

   Filomena shook her head in confusion.  “Who do you think you are, playing with people’s feelings like this?”  It was quiet, but the disgust in her voice was unmistakable.

   Hayze shook his head.  “I’m done playing, Filomena.”  He shifted his weight further onto his elbows.  “I was done the moment they found out I was wearing that collar.”

   She nodded, a little sardonically.  “So you expect me to believe this is the real you.”

   He glanced sideways again, but didn’t quite meet her eyes.  “Believe what you want.”

   “No, that’s not how this works,” she said, pointing a finger at him.  “You spent the last four years controlling every little aspect of my life, including what I think.  If you want me to listen to anything you say right now, you have to _care_ what I believe.”

   Hayze considered her quietly, left ear perked high with his attention.  Then he nodded, and looked the other way.

   Filomena sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.  “You were lying,” she muttered.  “Again.”  Hayze looked up at her in question, but said nothing.  “You do care.”

   He stared silently at her for two more ticks before slowly shaking his head.  “I never, ever said I didn’t.”  He blinked, and his mouth tightened into a line.  “I made it look otherwise, I know.”  He inhaled and looked away.  There was new movement in his hands, a slow but nervous wringing.  He rocked forward, and attempted to settle back into his hips again.  It didn’t work.  He gave up and rubbed his face.

   Filomena didn’t seem to understand Hayze’s sudden expressiveness, so she stared at him until his shoulders tensed, and he jerked his head up.

   “Would you _please_ stop staring?”

   The woman blinked and raised her eyebrows at his tone.  She had known he was uncomfortable, but didn’t think he would snap at her so quickly.  Then she raised her hands in a quiet apology and looked at her covers.  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

   He flicked his eyes at her, but didn’t hold her gaze.  “I don’t know.”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know why I even suggested meeting you.”  He knitted his fingers in an attempt to keep his hands still.  “I just… needed it.”

   Filomena watched him carefully.  The astonishment that he was nervous around her was still dawning on her waking mind, which kept her relaxed and alert in his presence.  The steady revelation pulled her head to one side, eyes still narrowed.  “Who are you?” she asked.

   He rocked restlessly again and folded his hands at his mouth.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t known for awhile.”

   “Hayze…”

   “Don’t.”  He cut her off.  “Don’t say that word again.”  He glanced at her.  Her face was confused, as if she didn’t understand what he was talking about.  “Don’t say that name.  Never again.”  The confusion remained etched in her features, but an odd sort of sadness fell over the top of it like a veil.  Hayze looked away.  “Donovan was the only one in fifteen years to say that name with kindness.  Everyone else learned to think of it as a curse.”  He shrugged.  “I know you did.”

   There was a long pause between them, in which Filomena tried to keep herself from staring at him, as he had asked.  It was more difficult than she had imagined.  All these years, her instincts begged her to watch his every motion with caution.  But this time was a little different, somehow.  There was something soft in him that she wanted to study, to engage in.  “What should I call you?” she finally asked.

   He smirked, almost shyly.  “You don’t have to call me anything.  You can reduce my memory to nothing more than dust, if it would suit you.”

   “Then… why are you here?”

   His fingers tightened on one another, drawing out the tendons in each knuckle.  “To say goodbye, I suppose.”  He looked at her, and this time held her gaze.

   “Why…?” she asked.  “If… If I am supposed to forget you, then why is it so imperative that you see me before you go?”

   Hayze flicked his eyes down at her hands.  “So _I_ can remember _you_.”  He heaved a breath.  “When we first met, I looked at you, and I saw all the wrong I had done in my time, all the truth I had avoided.  I looked at you and I suddenly saw how weak I really was.”  He shook his head.  “So… I tried to make you afraid of me.”

   “I was always afraid of you.”

   Hayze shook his head.  “That’s not what I saw.”  He looked at her again.  “I saw someone who, no matter how much I tried to beat her down, stood up with straight defiance and spat in the face of all tyranny.”  He smirked.  “I didn’t realize for a long time that I was jealous of you.”  He sighed.  “I wish I had known.  I wish things had been different.  I wish… I wish _I_ had been different.”

   Filomena let her eyes turn up again, allowed herself a few more seconds to study him.  He was so soft-voiced, each word clipped and lyrical, almost like notations in a musical score.  How had she not noticed?  How could she be afraid of him?

   She looked at her hands, clenched her fingers in her sheet.  “Nicodemo,” she said, almost a whisper.

   Hayze looked up.  “I beg your pardon?”

   Filomena smiled softly.  “It’s a name.  It means ‘victory of the people’.”

   He harrumphed.  “It’s a mouthful.”  Still, he tested it out.  “Nic- Nico…demo, was it?  Nicodemo?”

   She raised her head and smiled encouragingly at him.  “Nico, for short.”

   “Nico,” he repeated.  He glanced at her.  “What about it?”

   “That’s what I’m going to call you from now on.”

   Hayze’s eyebrows went up.

   “You hurt me,” said Filomena.  “But letting myself think of you as anything less than a person feels… wrong.  And… if you don’t want to be that person anymore… then maybe you should have a name that reflects who you _do_ want to be.”  She looked up at him, and was shocked almost to the point of discomfort to see two fat tears rolling down the young Galra’s cheeks.

   “I…”  Hayze shook his head.  “I’m sorry.”  He wiped his face with the heel of his hand and heaved a fake laugh, but the tears wouldn’t stop.  He rubbed his eyes again.  “I’m s- I’m sorry.”  He had meant to apologize for getting emotional, but something about the words was keeping him from calming down. 

   “Nico?” she asked.

   Just the sound of her calling him by his new name ruptured something inside Hayze’s chest.  Both his hands came up to cover his face, and he let out his breath.  “I’m so sorry.”

   Filomena stared at him for a moment, flicked her eyes up at Matik, who shrugged, and then looked back at Hayze.  Neither of them said anything for a moment; they knew what he was apologizing for.  They knew why he was weeping.

   When she couldn’t stand watching him do this anymore, Filomena reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.  It had the desired effect; Hayze hastily wiped his face and choked back his emotions.

   “I’m sorry,” he breathed, and cleared his throat.  “That was a… an unexpectedly _kind_ gesture.”

   Filomena harrumphed.  “You don’t own that name yet,” she said.  Her words were gruff, but when he looked up at her there was a hint of a smile in her lips.  “It’s going to take time; time to heal, time to build up that new, strong person.”  She drew her hand back and folded her arms.  “Are you sure you’re up to the challenge?”

   He paused a moment before deciding on a worried smile.  “I suppose we’ll find out.”

   She lowered one eyebrow at him.  “Do you need a hint?”

   Hayze shook his head.  “I wouldn’t ask you to cheapen your judgement for the sake of leniency.”  He took a deep breath.  “This is something I have to do for myself.”  He stood up from her bed, and then turned and looked down at her.  “So… Thank you, Filomena.  I won’t forget you.”  

   The woman extended her hand to him, and he looked down at her.  She was volunteering to touch him again.  He shook his head slightly.  Strange woman; strange, brave, stubborn woman.  

   He took her by the arm, the first time he’d touched her with gentleness, felt her smooth skin tease the tips of his fingers.  Something soft and sweet flashed quickly across his thoughts.  His smile faded, and he tested the flesh of her arm with a gentle squeeze.  He could have had this; they could have been _more_.  But he was always too afraid, and it was too late to say anything now.  So when the smile came back to him, it was resigned and bittersweet.  She was letting him go, and that was all he had ever worked for.

   His hand was warm, firm, but not hard.  For the first time, he wasn’t a monster, and she wasn’t afraid of him.  She even thought she’d feel more pleasure in seeing him go, but there was no comfort in it.  So she raised a wistful half-smile at him, and shook his hand.  “Goodbye… _Nico_.”

   “Goodbye, Filomena.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. Screw it. I'll get done when I get done.


	100. “Like I’m Gonna Lose you” - Meghan Trainor, ft. John Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro doesn't know how to let go, and doesn't feel like he deserves to have what he really wants

   Shiro watched the slow parade of bodies in and out of Filomena’s room.  Each one entered with a tangible tension, and left without it.  Something about talking to her made them leave their worries behind.  That was fine; no, it was _right_.  Those old wounds had no place in their new lives, and if anyone knew where to put those memories to rest, it was Filomena.

   Hayze stopped briefly to shake hands with him on his way off the ship, toward his trials.  He seemed more confident now, or perhaps he had just finally found a stance against Shiro that he could use to brace himself.  Either way, his farewell address was almost curt, jarring in its intensity.

   “I was wrong, Shiro,” he said, so quietly he could hardly be heard over the other voices around them.

   “About what?” the black paladin asked.

   Hayze narrowed his eyes for just a moment before glancing away.  “I _do_ envy you.”  He looked at him directly again.  “If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that she has courage in her veins, and she bleeds it; transfuses it to those who need it, even when we don’t deserve it.  So I’m telling you now, because the few drops she’s given me will run out, and I’ll likely never see her again: make her happy, and she’ll make you strong.”

   Shiro was too stunned to say anything.  He shook his head.  “I…”  It took a moment for his words to come back.  “I’ll try.”

   And then Hayze was gone, lost in the listing throng of bodies in the hallway, with Kolivan close on his heels.

   Shiro stood there until the crowd had thinned, and Allura had led the rest of the former prisoners toward the hangars.  He stood there until a willowy figure in a nightgown appeared from her doorway and smiled shyly at him, breaking him out of the fog Hayze had left him in.  He stood up from the wall and mirrored her expression involuntarily.

   “So,” she said, bracing herself on the doorway.  “I take it you heard most of that.”

   Shiro harrumphed and took a step toward her.  “You have a nasty habit of being very nice to people.”

   She chuckled.  “Yes, I know.  It’s terrible.”  Then she sighed.  “The worst part is that many of those people I’m simply _nice_ to tend to assume I’m romantically interested in them.”

   Shiro cocked his head and nodded to acknowledge her.  “I can see where that might be a problem.”

   “Might be?” she asked laughingly.  “Do you have _any_ idea how much trouble I got in back home?”

   “Yes, you’ve told me.”  He wrapped both arms around her waist.  “Maybe you should curb that behavior.  No need to call attention to yourself.”

   She chuckled at him.  “It’ll be difficult.  I’m not good at being standoffish.”

   Shiro raised an eyebrow as she turned out of his arms and led him back into her room.  “You could be good at it if you tried,” he said.  He closed the door behind him and leaned against the metal panel, arms folded again.  “I recall a few times when you successfully put us in our respective places.”

   Filomena eyed him from across the room with a wry grin.  “Oh?” she asked.  “So you _do_ know where your place is?”

   Shiro scoffed at the teasing remark.  Then he crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around her, coupling his hands across her stomach.  “Right here,” he said.

   She giggled.  “We’re such saps.”

   The black paladin nuzzled her cheek, and then tilted his head to breathe in the scent of her hair.  She still smelled warm, like sleep.  “What am I going to do without you?” he whispered.

   She harrumphed.  “The same thing you did before me,” she said.  “You were good at it, and that hasn’t changed.”  She turned under his hands so she could wrap her arms up around his neck.  “You’re still their leader.  You can do this; there was never any doubt.”

   “When you say it, I almost believe it,” Shiro said in a half-grumble.

   She snickered once, and then shrugged one shoulder.  “I suppose humility keeps you from getting too far ahead of yourself.”  She stood on her tip-toes and nudged his nose with hers.  “I have to get dressed.”

   “No you don’t,” Shiro corrected.  “You could go home just like that, and you’d be perfectly dazzling.”

   She scoffed and pushed him away, and he laughed at her minor discomfort.  “I’m getting dressed,” she reiterated.  “You can stay in here and watch, or you can wait outside.”

   “Well, if I stay and watch, I might not let you leave.”  He was reaching for his sense of humor now; and it was only getting farther away.

   She turned and looked at him, noticing the silence and how it fell between them.  The distance between them was so impossibly far, all of a sudden.  “Takashi…”

   He raised a hand at her and gave her a resigned smile.  “I’ll let you get dressed.”

   He attempted to turn for the door, but he caught motion out of the corner of his eye, and spun back to catch her as she collided with him, arms flung wide to catch the back of his neck.  Shiro made a startled sound, but relaxed when she pulled herself in and pressed her lips to his.  When she kissed him then, it felt like she had crossed light years, infinite space, just to reassure him.

   And then gravity seemed to come back, pulling her down and away from him again.  It wasn’t quite as far as before; he could feel her heat, breathe her air, and feel like he might still be part of her.  “I love you,” she whispered.  “Don’t forget.  Don’t push it away because you feel like you _should_ be lonely.”  She lowered her right hand over his heart.  “I’m right here.  I’m always right here.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “It sounds so childish,” he murmured.  “‘Keep your loved ones in your heart’?” he scoffed.  “That’s something we say to people when they’re grieving and we don’t have anything else we can say.”

   She sighed, but didn’t release him.  “That’s unfortunately very true,” she said.  Then she cocked her head.  “But, for the most part, we don’t actually know _why_ we say that, do we?”  He looked up at her, and she smirked.  “You know the secret now.  You know the truth of it.”  Her smile became soothing.  “I won’t tell you not to be sad.  That’s not something I can demand of you.  But… should you need me…”  She traced a heart-shape with the tip of her finger.  “You know where to find me.”  She patted his chest gently.  “And when you finally come home… well, you’ll know where to find me then, too.”

   “Vicenza,” he mumbled.  “City of Gold.”

   “That’s right.”  She went up on her toes and kissed him sweetly again.  “Now, wait for me outside.  There’s something I wanted to do before I go.”

   Shiro didn’t wait long.  Filomena came out in her jeans and flannel, and was carrying her boots.  “I thought you’d go for something more formal,” he teased.

   She shrugged and slipped her feet into her boots, one at a time.  “Dressing up takes too much work, and too much time.  Another three minutes, and you’d be overthinking every second we have left together.”

   The black paladin raised his eyebrows, and then reflected that she was absolutely right.  “How on Earth did you know that?”

   She stood upright and tossed her hair over her shoulder.  “Sometimes I just know.”  She winked at him.  “Then again, I’ve spent a little time watching you overthink things.”

   Shiro rolled his eyes, and she giggled at him.  “I know you do it too,” he chided.

   “I do,” she admitted.  She tucked her hand into the bend of his arm and began leading him down the hallway.  “But that’s the reason for most of my spontaneity.  I don’t want to regret anything.”

   “Does that have something to do with where we’re going?”

   “Mm-hm.”

   She quickened her pace, and Shiro let himself be pulled along.  With her hand in his, he felt like a kite in a brisk wind; aloft and weightless, unaware of the doldrums to come.  Even while they stood in the elevator, it felt like she was barely holding onto him, and he might fly away if she let go.  He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

   They got off on the floor Filomena had chosen, and she led Shiro down the hall to the training deck.

   Uncertain of her motives, Shiro finally released her hand.  “What are we doing here?” he asked.

   She laughed under her breath.  “I wanted one last dance with you.”

   He gave her a sad smile.  “I’m not sure I have any tango left in me, Filomena.”

   “It’s a good thing I didn’t want to tango, then,” she said, a little smugly.  She pulled a device out of her pocket and scrolled through until she found the song she wanted, and a plucked guitar thrummed a slow, driving beat into the room.

   “This one?” Shiro asked.

   She hummed and nodded as he drew her into his embrace.  “It’s perfect.”

   They swayed to the tune for almost a full minute, her head on his chest, until Shiro finally had to break the silence between them.  “Do you understand the words?” he asked.

   She nodded against his lapel.  “The first time I heard the translations, I cried,” she admitted.

   “Then why?” Shiro asked.  He stopped dancing and pushed her out to arms’ length.  “Can we- Can we listen to something else?  Please?”

   She looked confused, but relented.  “Sure.  What would you like to hear?”

   “I don’t…”  He stopped with a sigh.  “I don’t know.”  He looked away.  You always do this to me; make me feel things I don’t understand, things that compromise me.

   She waited for him to suggest a new song, but he didn’t.  She pulled the player out of her pocket and stopped the music.  She was beginning to see that there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t.  “What’s…”  No, nothing was wrong, not really.  She didn’t want to ask that.  She stopped and tried again.  “What’s on your mind, Takashi?”

   He shook his head slightly, but didn’t look up.  For a few moments, the silence was unforgivingly _loud_.  Then he sighed, and his shoulders dropped in shame.  “ _Him_.”  He shook his head again.  “Why does it always have to be _him_?”

   It was Filomena’s turn to look away.  “I… I don’t want to answer that.”

   Shiro looked up.  “Because we both already know the answer,” he said.  I am insecure.  I am scared.  And you’re leaving me alone like this.  He lifted his head, straightening his back as best he could.  “I let him get to me,” he sighed, “and… I know I shouldn’t, by now.  Nothing he says should mean anything to me, but…”

   Filomena understood.  “But he still got to you.”  She inhaled, trying to keep herself from becoming tense.  “What did he say?”

   “It’s strange,” he said, avoiding her gaze.  “He told me he was jealous of me.”  He flicked his eyes up at her, watched surprise flash across her features, and then looked away again.  “And I couldn’t understand… how someone like that can talk about their… their _victim_ with that kind of affection.”

   The young woman’s forehead creased slightly at the word “victim,” but she decided not to comment on it, and moved on.  “You said yourself that he’s broken,” she said simply.  “I don’t claim to understand him, and perhaps you shouldn’t try.”

   Shiro looked up at her from under his eyebrows.  “You gave him a new _name_ , Filomena.”

   She shrugged.  “I didn’t, actually.  I made a suggestion; one that will allow me to cope, and him to grow.  If he adheres to it, fine.  If he doesn’t, then it’s his loss, and not mine.”

   Shiro looked away again.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

   She stared at him for a moment, and then scoffed.  “Are you mad at me because I was _nice_ to him?”

   He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.  I just… I don’t understand.”

   Miela was quiet for a few long seconds.  Then she too looked at the floor between them.  “I understand that you don’t like him.  I don’t either.  I didn’t know he felt that way for me; he’s been… _very unfriendly_ over the past several years.”  She raised her shoulders around her ears, slowly, as if trying to carefully express her obvious discomfort.  “I don’t know.  Maybe he was just putting on an act, like he was letting down his walls and letting me see some fictional vulnerability.”  She shrugged and folded her arms.  “I don’t know.  But… I don’t have that connection to him anymore, so I acted like I thought a good person would.  I drew a line, let him know that the things he was doing… they were wrong.  And I tried to be sympathetic, as well.  It wasn’t easy, and I hope you believe me.”

   Shiro shook his head.  “I don’t know how you could do that for him.”  There was something accusatory in his tone.  _How could you do that for someone like him?_   And when he looked up, he saw its consequence.

   She still looked confused, but there was hurt there, as well.  Then, as understanding slowly drifted over her, shame.  Then sadness.  She knew what this was about, now.  He was jealous.  Hayze didn’t deserve her understanding, much less her casual, generous kindness.  Miela broke his gaze to scan the floor.  “I… I’m sorry,” she said.  She raised her eyes to his again and spread her hands in a helpless shrug.  “I don’t know how else to be.”  

   Shiro looked at her, looked at the space he had put between them.  It hurt, but maybe it was better this way.

   Miela folded her arms again.  “I don’t… I don’t know what it is you want from me,” she said softly.  “I see now that you don’t… you don’t approve of how I decided to treat him.”

   “No, I don’t,” Shiro said curtly.  “That kind of gesture should be reserved for…”

   “For _you_ ,” she finished, a little pointedly.  “I get it.”  She lowered her hands to her sides, her fingers curled into her palms in irritation.  “I hate that I have to say this, but you don’t get to decide how I treat others.”  Her voice was strict, but not loud, as if she were trying to gently coax him back over the line he had crossed.

   “He _raped_ you!”

   Filomena pressed the tips of her fingers to her chest to indicate herself.  “And that’s _my_ cross to bear.  You don’t get to tell me how to deal with it.”

   Shiro threw up his hands.  “I’m _trying_ to help you!”

   “By limiting what little positivity I have to survive on?” she asked.  “Or by refreshing my memory of all the ways he held me captive, _including_ the emotional chains you decided to cut?”  She scoffed and crossed her arms.  “That’s not helping.”  She was quiet for few seconds, allowing him time to remember that he had altered her emotions on a fundamental level.

   Shiro glared at her.  “Well, what do you want me to do, then?”

   “Nothing,” she said.  She pursed her lips in thought.  “All I wanted was a few moments with you,” she almost whispered.  “And… instead of the happy thing I had in mind, you… you’re telling me that I… I _cheapened_ what we have together.”  Her voice broke, and she blinked and dabbed her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head.  “I don’t know what you want.”  She cleared her throat, and lifted her eyes to him for a moment.  “I gave you everything I have to give,” she said, the shame in her voice flattening her affect slightly.  She lifted a pleading look at him.  “Was it too much?  What was it?  The life of my baby?  The place at the head of my family?  Or was it the spot in my bed; the intimacy I thought I’d never be able to show anyone ever again?”  

   Oh, quiznak, he hadn’t even thought about that.

   She choked and inhaled, trying to keep calm.  “I promised myself I wouldn’t have any regrets, and I don’t.  But… apparently you do.”  She swallowed.  “I wish I had known.  I’m… I’m so sorry.”  She stepped away from him.

   Shiro ground his teeth together, his mind reaching, grasping for some kind of footing in this argument.  Or maybe he just didn’t want her to leave like this.  “I wish you had been honest with me.”

   She looked up at him over her shoulder.  “I _have_ been honest with you,” she said, turning to face him in her exasperation.  “I have never, at any point, hidden what I’m really like.  I have kept things from you in an attempt to keep our relationship simple, and I told you up-front that was what I was doing, and you refused to have it that way.  But I have _never_ lied to you,” Filomena insisted.  “Not.  Ever.”

   Shiro rubbed the pinching feeling between his eyebrows.  He had never been very good at picking the liars out from the honest folk.  “Then lie to me.”

   She looked puzzled.  “What?”

   “Lie to me,” he repeated, “so I’ll know what it looks like.”

   There was a long pause, and Shiro finally looked up.  Hurt was written in her features, etched into deep creases that formed at the edges of her eyes and between her eyebrows.

   Finally, Filomena looked at the floor.  “Why do you keep doing this?” she murmured, as if she really didn’t expect an answer.  “You keep challenging me, playing these ridiculous games…  What… Why?  Are you trying to prove something?  Is it fun?  Or do you just not believe in me?”

   Shiro didn’t answer.

   The young woman heaved a sigh, dabbed her eyes again, and said, “Fine.”  She sniffed and looked up.  “I’ll lie to you, because you asked me to, and it will hurt, because you’ll believe it.”

   He broke his gaze with her and looked at the floor.  That was just as well, because Filomena would rather he not see how hard she had to work to make her lie believable.  She steeled herself as best she could, but her breath still shook when she tried to inhale.  She swallowed and clenched her fists, and then tried again.  She found that familiar, boiling red anger inside her chest and coaxed it to the surface, so she could tell what must have been the biggest lie she had ever told.

   “I hate you.”

   Shiro flinched.  It really did hurt.  He looked up at her.  Filomena’s pretty face was bent into a look of well-practiced disgust.  She was right; he believed her.

   “What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice still tight.

   Shiro shook his head, as if he didn’t quite understand the question.  Something about the hateful comment had rattled him, as if the truth had been stuck to the inside of his skull, and was just now being jarred loose.

   Miela took a single step closer.  “I never felt anything for you.”

   Shiro shut his eyes and shook the words out of his ears.  “Stop.”

   “I _never_ loved you!”

   Shiro desperately clapped his hands over his ears.  “Stop it!”

   Filomena clawed her fingers in frustration, closing the distance between them in two more quick steps.  “What do you want from me?” she screamed.

   “I want you to _STAY_!” he roared back.

   For a moment, it looked as if Shiro was more surprised by those words than Filomena was.  Both their faces went slack, eyes open in revelation.

   Two slow tears rolled down Filomena’s face, and Shiro hit his knees.

   He had needed a reason to hurt, a reason that he had to let her go.  Now she had given him one, and he realized that wasn’t what he had wanted at all.  He knelt there before her until he could no longer stand her stare, and then Shiro hung his head.  His whole body began to tremble, and before he knew it, he was weeping quietly.

   Her arms were around his neck before his first tear had run to the tip of his nose.  Her fingers clenched in his hair, her body pressed tightly against him.

   “Take it back,” Shiro whispered.  “Please.”

   Filomena drew back and began planting soft little kisses on the places his tears had touched.  “They were lies, Takashi,” she said between kisses.  “They were all lies.”


	101. Epilogue:  “Stardust” - Nat “King” Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and the team say goodbye

   Shiro apologized.  Filomena brushed the whole thing off, because she understood.  He already missed her, he was angry that she was having to leave, he was jealous that she might show that generosity to anyone else, he was afraid someone else would fall for her… and he hated himself for all of those errant emotions.  But she forgave him in an instant, siphoning the darkness from his soul and leaving it in the jet trails behind them.  And Shiro had never been more grateful.

   The next couple hours felt like a dream, though he couldn’t tell if it was a daydream or a nightmare.  The most beautiful creature in all creation loved him, and she had to leave him.  She let him play with Cesare while she said a few goodbyes to some of her former companions, telling him teasingly that he had to be mentally present to care for a baby.  She was right about that, at least.  And Cesare dutifully kept Shiro’s attention, grinning and trying to hold his adoptive father’s spirits aloft.

   Shiro hummed and smirked sadly, as if he knew that shouldn’t be a job for an infant.  But Cesare was a strong little boy; he’d do well on Earth.  He’d be fine.  They would both be fine.

   “Give them to me,” Filomena said, apropos of nothing.

   Shiro looked up at her.  “Cesare?” he asked, turning and facing her with the intent of placing the baby in her arms.

   But she shook her head.  “No.  Those emotions you’re brooding over.”

   Shiro glanced at the floor, and then shifted his gaze back to the baby.  “I don’t know how.”  He sighed.  “What am I going to do when you’re not here?” he asked.  “Just talking to you makes my whole life feel simpler, easier.”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know how you do it; how you deal with all the pressure.  You make it look like _magic_.”

   Filomena reached up and ran the backs of her fingers over his jaw, and he flicked his eyes up at her.  She was smiling, but the expression seemed deeply sad.  “Whoever said it _wasn’t_?” she asked.  “I never said it didn’t hurt.  I never implied it wasn’t hard.  But there are harder things.  There are things that hurt worse, and I have to keep that in mind as I go.”  Then a flicker of excitement flared in her eyes.  “Be where your feet are; keep yourself tethered to the present, and the magic stays with you.”

   Shiro’s eyes widened, his expression softening as he realized she was quoting Donovan.  Then he smirked, and the tension in him relaxed again.

   “Be calm,” she murmured, almost too softly for him to hear.  “Be patient, and focus will come to you.”

   The black paladin chuckled.  “I tell that to Keith all the time.”

   She smirked.  “Did you tell him what comes with focus?”

   “No, I conveniently forgot to mention that.”

   She nudged him playfully.  “You had no idea about that.”

   “I had no idea about that.”

   They laughed together, and it was perfect.

   The whole team wanted to bid her farewell with big hugs and tears.  She went from person to person, wishing them well and doling out words of encouragement.  But when she reached Shiro, at the end of the line, she stopped.  

   Shiro put Cesare into her arms, and the baby whined and stretched his arms out toward Shiro.  The black paladin harrumphed and ruffled the little boy’s hair, and then he tilted his head to kiss Filomena.  It was slow, sweet, and far too short, but he would remember it as clearly as their first.

   “I love you,” he whispered.

   “I love you too,” she whispered back.  Filomena suddenly looked back at the rest of the team, who wore surprised, slightly discomfited expressions.  “I think we’re embarrassing them,” she whispered.

   Shiro laughed under his breath.  “You think?”  She chuckled, and he smirked.  “You promised me _two_ words, didn’t you?” he asked, wrapping his arms around the two of them.

   She harrumphed.  “Yes, I did.  But I think you already know the second one.”

   His smile faded.  He flicked his eyes away, but made sure to meet her gaze when he said the word.  “ _Arrivederci_ ,” he murmured.

   “ _Goodbye_ ,” she said, her Italian accent warping the word.  She had attempted to say it in English.

   His hand trailed down her arm, clasped her hand, dragged all the way to the tips of her fingers as he attempted to keep physical contact with her for as long as he could.  But she drifted out of his grip like a lost balloon, up the ramp into the shuttle.  He watched her face until the door closed, and stood there staring at the hangar door for several seconds after she was gone.  He could have stood frozen there forever, but he knew she would not have let him, if she had been there to spur him forward.  Every action felt like a devotion, somehow.  Every new step brought him closer to seeing her again, rather than further away.  A few lost seconds were all the mourning period he could allot for himself.  Anything more, and he might break.

   And just like that, the dream was over.

   ***

   It felt like weeks before he woke up.  Even then, for just a few moments before he opened his eyes, he could feel her beside him, her slow, even breath warm on his skin. 

   The pounding on the door drove the feeling away, and he forgot it almost as soon as he came awake.  He sighed and rubbed his face, and opened his eyes.  Instead of opening the door, he reached over and turned on the intercom.  “What is it?” he asked softly.

   Lance’s voice was unduly loud and obnoxious.  As usual.  “The gladiator’s gone berserk!” he yelped.

   Shiro angled his head away from the yelling.  “Again?” he groaned.

   Keith’s voice came on next.  “It has not!” he retorted.  “You just started on an advanced level and couldn’t handle it!”

   “Shut up, Mullet!”

   Shiro sat up on his elbows.  “Is there any possible way you can argue without involving me?” he asked.

   Then there was the girl’s voice.  “Nope,” she corrected over the bickering in the background.  “You’re Space Dad.  You’re always the moderator.”

   The black paladin rubbed his face again, and then stretched his neck.  He needed another massage.  Well, so much for a decent nap.  He sighed and sat up.  “I’m up.  I’ll be out in a few.”

   “Great!” said Pidge.  “Hunk’s got some pastries in the oven if you want to just sit on the sidelines and pig out.”

   Shiro raised an eyebrow.  “Cannoli and coffee?”  A warm feeling, as teasing and playful as a certain redhead’s smile, washed over him at the idea.

   “What could _possibly_ be better?”  Pidge turned off the com.

   Shiro stared at the door for another tick before springing out of his cot and running from the room.  “Hey Pidge, you’d better save me some!”

 

 

The End


End file.
